THE BREAD LOAF JOURNAL
Topography SARAH SCHULZ | VERMONT I. Draught drains the September landscape to shades of dust. We search the rocky creek beds for hidden water. Suddenly you smile. Tiny rivers crease the skin around your eyes when you spot a forgotten stream II. What is this bruise on your bicep? This storm cloud of gray blue purple the size of my thumb, changing shape and color each time I spy it What caused this imprint? This painted painful pleasure? What greedy hand or mouth gave it life? III. Your collarbone turns to crater catches rain that patters through the tent when we foolishly forgo the fly. I wake to wetness, your soft flannel damp.
62 | VOLUME VIII