Darling, if I could, I would cradle your head in my lap behind the arches in my knees. I'd cup my body over you, and make a home for you here. Beneath my wishbone. A cavern of stars in my chest. There would be enough tender gestures to make you cry. If I could.
There are raisins behind my wishbone right now. Twenty year old raisins. Oh, they're sweet all right darling, and stale, and rock hard. And when you suck some juice back into them, what are they still but raisins?
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