Published in miniskirt magazine
What We Talk About Under A Wool Blanket
My legs, a moth
to an ember. My skin
skimming yours—birch
paper wings kindling
flame. Scarlet ruminating
in flickering blackness,
me beaming daffodil,
honey, amber. Being
content with being
preserved in ashes.
Caring for this blanket
the way the moon cares
only for puddles on concrete.
Jaden Fong 