Reconstructed Logo

Behind The Orange Trees are My Bones

We cut the twilight’s heavy air with an eagerness that lovers bare
Poisonous Beatrice- The Garden’s Voyeur
Her breath caresses your neck and I can see your eyes turn black
Her scent lingers upon the juniper, as we rendezvous behind the orange trees
Oleander on your lips
Bruises on my hips

 

Raven Eliza Hodge, Undergraduate Student, Interdisciplinary Studies with English Major
Spring 2012