zips

the gentle unsticking of my heels from the bottoms of their flats as they make their quiet way through shadowy leaf jungles unfurling across the sidewalk. and the sound of nothing, the sky aubergine and deep, but the chime ticking of sliders on my bag.

pins, needles

wood dark and crackling with sun, moving against my palms, heat-swollen, humming ecstatic. my feet curled into the space beneath knees, ankles awkward against plank and searching for grace in the tucking of my dress .. tingling into forgetfulness after too long and making their blind way into sandals rough with unfamiliarity.

shubbak

lapland on the southbank, bright colours against the absolute flaxen of their hair, against the blankness of snow. and visions of elk, suddenly, and ice queens.. shards in boys’ hearts, embedded and devastating. or was it eyes? and my childhood loops itself through the ribbons along their skirts, whispers through their rabbit fur boots. so soft.

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