A Little Death
Seth Wieck
October 15, 2021
Tears coined
in the crows’ feet
of her eye clench
Her sigh
wet in his ear
She quaked
belly and thigh
against him
It doesn’t last long
enough, she said
raptly and rapped
his bald shoulders with balled fists
viced his
to-the-hilt-hips to twist
another inch
that doesn’t exist
Time stirred
against the pale
thigh of eternity
like the first
time he held
her hand
Seth Wieck's writing has appeared in Narrative Magazine, the Langdon Review of the Arts, Tejascovido, and the Broad River Review where he won the Ron Rash Award in Fiction. He lives in Amarillo with his wife and three children and appraises real estate.
