- Vol. 05
- Chapter 08
Image by Sharon McCutcheon
Eyes Shut and Golden
I close my eyes and midsummer melts, burnishes skin with liquid gold, warming bones bullied brittle by an unforgiving winter and a late spring.
Sunlight, sticky as yolk from a cracked egg, trickles down my neck, runs its fingers over my back, velveting vertebrae on its way on the first true summer day
so bright my eyes won’t open – but the view is golden.