Best Friend
River The conception was a chore but there were fireworks the night his minuscule doubling numbers were captured by my uterine wall. Tired of painting over the old dirty terracotta curtains still days from their rails. I watched bursts of ancient science jewel the tight face of the black Tay, and heard the crackles like tide pulling through pebbles. I knew his names long before I found him watching me sleeping from his aching elongated head. First published by WomenWords Sunrise Over Manchu Picchu Sunrise Over Machu Picchu: A Collection of Women's Voices