A Full Recounting of Flowers, That is, Remembering a Time When I Nearly Transformed What Really Happened Into Myth Back when he climbed into my bed, I was fourteen. In a whisper he claimed, “Love…
Prose, Poetry, and Art since 1956
A Full Recounting of Flowers, That is, Remembering a Time When I Nearly Transformed What Really Happened Into Myth Back when he climbed into my bed, I was fourteen. In a whisper he claimed, “Love…