St. Andrews
By Caroline Lazarova
October 15, 2023
October 15, 2023
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and then we hurried to the coast,
couldn’t bear to be landlocked even with each other. Saline sunlight late March lithic beach under our feet, and your rough hands searching for shellfish. In the mist it hid so well, the breaking and the binding, no body beyond what begged to be forgiven. A northern spring so much like home, vernal ache in our bones. Someday it will matter so little, the body breaking or the heart binding to what is destined to destroy it. Seaweed will decompose into itself, brackish water corroding the shore, and it will be like we were never here. |
Caroline Lazarova graduated from the University of Maine at Farmington and was previously the recipient of a Fulbright fellowship to Bulgaria. She now lives and writes in Saint Paul, Minnesota. Her work can be found in Gastropoda, Leavings Lit, Idle Ink, and elsewhere.