I remember the suck of boots in mud; guttural, sexual, in those clandestine woods. I remember dying to cry out but throat-stuck with briers and stones, as your ruddy lips grew much ruddier. I remember falling, falling back into that tangled bed; a mesh of twigs. Deflowered like a virgin bride in the ground swell of spring. Underneath that deciduous canopy propped up with jagged scaffolding...Extracts from The Circus, a song by Jennifer Charles & Firewater.
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