It happened upon an evening early
when the day’s glitter had all but fallen
on their wide lustful eyes
and swept them into a slumber befallen by no one else
in the shuttered, weathered house on the shore

     slippers strewn and silk slipped kindly on dusty
wooden floors
     and air perfumed with madness,
     only ingested by summertime lovers

     jigsawed bodies, a moment’s synchronicity
     here stolen and gifted, amidst sandy sheets

     air swept kisses from this tethered night
     blended into the darkening sky

     purples piled onto blue and three-second
shocking pinks
     with only whispers of the day’s not-so innocence,
in the their slowing breath
 

It happened upon a morning early
when the night owl slept and the morning lark rang out
their entwined bodies, bared a peaceful, captured
frame
yet in death an uncanny unison
in the shuttered, weathered house on the shore

Kristin L. Wolfe is currently a freelance writer and instructor in SVA’s Humanities department. She is also completing an MFA in Nonfiction at Columbia University’s School of the Arts. She writes cultural pieces for various publications, book reviews for Publishers Weekly, and is shopping around a young adult novel called Sometimes Weeds Are Pretty.