cloud atlas-goodwin

Photo by Bruce Weber

‘Do you have stars in your mouth?’
she asks and I laugh, she’s never tasted winter like I have, midnights that linger for days. ‘Yes,’ I tell her. ‘Come see’…
‘Will there be breath?’…
‘For a while,’ I whisper and blow on her hands, ‘But you will sing and the aurora lights will walk across the ice.’
She lets me put my hands on her.
‘Will I die?’
Her hair like snow.
‘Yes.’ I tell her. ‘Every time.’
Jude Goodwin