tough to prod into romance

365: 06.02.09
365: 06.02.09

I see you walking in my dreams, splinters of invincible movement from the corner of my eye, fiction and blood drowning together, the colours thicker than in photographs of your eyes. Winter shifting out of December, reaching forward to pull Spring out of the calloused clouds, (the random smell of flowers dripping in the wind), wondering what waiting will bring. Dreams of airports and shredded letters, structures built of running faster, learning the contours of your hands. I think of the chambers of the heart and name them in order, atria and ventricles, the left and right of each. I think of tracing patterns, explaining the history of the word skin, from the German word scinten or schinden, to flay, as I peel back electric layers of myself and still discover you there.

much obliged?

I’ve just recieved a puzzling e-mail, (and by just, I mean I’ve only just now fished it out of my junk mail, where it has been languishing a couple of days), claiming to be from Her Majesty the Queen. Anyone want to fess up who sent it? I haven’t replied, in spite of the grandly amusing address of e_rex@monarchy, at the risk it is very clever spam, rather than a friend having a bit of a laugh.

FROM: Elizabeth Windsor
SUBJECT: Not an unwanted missive, we hope.

“Dearest Jhayne,

We just wanted to take a moment to say that we have been much entranced with your joie de vive. Pray continue to seize life in your teeth and shake if for all that it is worth.

Much delight,

Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of Her other Realms and Territories Queen, Scourge of the Seas, Defender of the Fates, so mote it be!”