By Theda Thread
What is corporeal love, after all? Love of a corpse. Spiritual love is conspiracy. Dinner plates, nail clippings, your damp hair on my pillow — all soon discarded.
Our love was whispers and eye-gazing. The breath of words poisoned these lips.
Nothing is real but this kiss. Dream of me, sweet.
By Theda Thread
We talk of mermaid sightings—the talk of mermaids half-seen.
We have not seen. Only heard talk. Like sex talk, who believes a word?
They say it was a misty morning. A grotto. A cove? The children’s bodies draped across rocks near the broken guardrail.
Who could believe that? Who?