Leah Muller

May 22, 2018

After the Fire

After the fire I heard your voice, low and Midwestern: the syllable bursts of erratic heat, hoarse cadence musical, familiar. Years in the Northwest turned my own words into monotonous rain. Your clumsy thrust ejects from my belly, illuminates my breath with manufactured warmth. Two Decembers ago, we hiked to Multnomah Falls summit, and I showed you the river below. Your face in the wind, pale […]