you see tarspen elia’s eyes first. they are bright and afraid.
the wind whips red dust into your face. you brush it away restlessly. your cheeks are hot; the air is sticky. you can feel your heart pumping through your skin.
only her forehead and the tip of her nose is above the lip of the cliff at first. and her hands: bloodless knuckles, and fingers gripping deep and desperate into the warm dirt like claws. you peer over her and down, at her body suspended above a drop a few metres less than a hundred. she looks up and her gaze meet yours.
every summer, they come. when the air is heavy with the scent of flowers and the breeze is warm and the sun scorches through the trees and bakes the earth. dancing over the ground they arrive; rising through the sky, dropping so low their wings graze the dry, crackling grass. as silent as the stars…
the boy was like moonshine the girl like a sunbeam, bright burning from afar they glimpsed each other at dawn and in pondering dusk the frosty stars were his company hers, none the sky they shared for both, the clouds were messengers yet they knew nothing
there was a girl and by night she was a wild equine her hooves thundering into black dust shards of moonlight in her mane nostrils flared flanks heaving the air icy in her lungs beneath a pelt the colour of charcoal her muscles flowed her eyes were starry and dark recklessly, the girl/horse galloped through…
the bloodred petals of the dawn flower stain the nighttime; tenderly leaching its darkness. its petals swallow the stars, one by one; streak colour through the horizon; seep deeply into the inky sky, seducing the moon. the bloodred petals of the dawn flower betray the nighttime to the sun.