Equinox
Somewhere in Illinois, our names are carved in stone.
My muscles remember it—the seizing of skin
as I clutched a small knife and shredded the earth’s bone
beneath the steel blade. Tell me there was reason for this,
that he, too, thought something so simple could save us.
Warmed by new sun, the frozen lake splintered open.
Winter uncurled its cold fists. Snow blackened
into the dead grass as we buried
the memory of our bodies in the wet footpaths.
Please, let me love this memory, just this one.
Let me recall the way the bluffs swallowed us whole,
the way we realized how small we were, how brief—
a scattered shadow, a freckle on his arm.

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- The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Maybe the Body by Asa Drake - April 6, 2026


