by Gracie May Bawden

All I write is him
His eyes that bloom like April
As we print ourselves in sand

The serifs that trail from every word
Fallen feathers at our feet

The nights-
When we were more than naked
We were transparent
I could feel each rib against mine
See right into the core of his chest
A pulsating brass mirror

I write him

And I fold him into fiction
Furiously sharpen the seams
Thumbnail pushing paper

Just nouns loving verbs, I say
Just nouns loving verbs.

Gracie May Bawden's picture

My name is Gracie Bawden and I live in Cornwall, England. This beautiful place has been an inspiration to me ever since I started writing, at about the age of nine. Nothing has changed. I doubt it ever will.

Last updated October 04, 2016