Henry Blossom

“Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven,Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.””

“Nothing can be given or taken away; nothing has been added or subtracted; nothing increased or diminished. We stand on the same shore before the same mighty ocean. The ocean of love. There it is - in perpetuum. As much in a broken blossom, the sound of a waterfall, the swoop of a carrion bird as in the thunderous artillery of the prophet.We move with eyes shut and ears stopped; we smash walls where doors are waiting to open to the touch; we grope for ladders, forgetting that we have wings; we pray as if God were deaf and blind, as if He were in a space. No wonder the angels in our midst are unrecognizable.One day it will be pleasant to remember these things.””

“I love you, Nora,” he says when we pull apart a few inches to breathe. “I think I love everything about you.”“Even my Peloton?” I ask.“Great piece of equipment,” he says.“The fact that I check my email after work hours?”“Just makes it easier to share Bigfoot erotica without having to walk across the room,” he says.“Sometimes I wear very impractical shoes,” I add.“Nothing impractical about looking hot,” he says.“And what about my bloodlust?”His eyes go heavy as he smiles. “That,” he says, “might be my favorite thing. Be my shark, Stephens.”“Already was,” I say. “Always have been.”“I love you,” he says again.“I love you too.” I don’t have to force it past a knot or through the vise of a tight throat. It’s simply the truth, and it breathes out of me, a wisp of smoke, a sigh, another floating blossom on a current carrying billions of them.“I know,” he says. “I can read you like a book.””