Ren Powell,
  Statute of Repose

Browsing Ren Powell

That fall she slept among the blueberry
and heather tangles. Waking when her limbs
had ripened to force a protest from her bed—
snapping branches stabbing through her visions.
Years from now he will excuse himself—
find comfort repeating his version: how she
approached him, naked, full of questions,
her green scent a curiosity.