by kimberly e. ruth
Squat on the peak, they held hands, with resistance.
I want to kiss you, she said. You know I canâ€™t, baby, a little slack and weâ€™re with the pigs. She looked down. Itâ€™s been three months. I want to fuck, she said. It doesnâ€™t seem to bother them he said, pointing to his neighbor. And in this manner they stayed, watching them drop off night after night with the coming of the sun, a map of poached triangles.