Volume 2 Number 3

MYTHOLOG

Summer 2004



My Lover, Boreas

Elizabeth Barrette

When the weatherman lays down the line,
First he kisses his way down my spine
Then he tugs on my hair
Raising goosebumps down there.
If he lasted all year,
I’d be frigid, I fear …
But for three months a year, he’s divine.


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