2024, Ohio River Valley Literature, poetry, river life, Working Class Literature

We breathe each other

Some nights after a cruise I will go to bed without taking a shower wearing the scent of the diesel and river on my skin. Though I try not to wake her, she mutters half-awake and pushes up next to me. We breathe each other in. She smells of ripe peaches and spring flowers. We fall asleep.

Standard

Leave a Reply