She crawls to be beneath him. Her toes are in the sand; she stands at the edge, ready to dive in. She is everywhere and nowhere and she leans in to kiss him. She is numb. She feels slightly nimble only because the hairs on the back of her neck rise; she is weary. She doesn’t know a life without him; where did fifteen years go? Do they mean anything? She blows eternity in the wind; she’s clutching tree leaves and soon she crawls to be with him wishing the soil would turn to quicksand. They are having dinner; it is a silent movie night; she laughs at the way he laughs and he loves it; he loves her. They match in their interests. They play a game of chess; they falter beneath the covers. She crawls to be beneath him; his body lying in the sand is God touching his cheek. She can’t crawl low enough. She cannot enter him fast enough. He is not buried here. Her thoughts begin to blur; her lipstick is poison and too bad too because she makes haste to moisten them; the lipstick is in the river. She cannot crawl to be beneath him because the soil is thick here; she digs her nails in him; she is beneath him. She crawled to be there like a child does for its mother; he is a lover. He is good, plentiful and beautiful. She is beneath him and their covers are the large drapes hiding them from ever going outdoors because she wants to stay here. She’s never leaving.
© Candace Meredith
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About the Author
Candace Meredith earned her Bachelor of Science degree in English Creative Writing from Frostburg State University in the spring of 2008. Her works of poetry, photography and fiction have appeared in literary journals Bittersweet, Backbone Mountain Review, Anthology 17, Greensilk Journal and The Broadkill Review. She currently works as a Freelance Editor for an online publishing company and has earned her Master of Science degree in Integrated Marketing and Communications (IMC) from West Virginia University.