Archive of Our Own ^beta

Fact: the world is brutal and coarse.

H

o

m

e

has four letters;

so does your name:

T 

o 

n 

y

Coincidence?

My hand dwarfs yours,

but my entire world sits 

in the pale, upturned curve

of your open palm

that catches cool-silk rain

and flicks it at my laughing face, 

a benediction in every translucent drop.



If God won’t save us,

we’ll do it ourselves, 

the sleep-soft sweep of your breath 

on my neck every night fact enough

to serve as the bedrock of a life.

Mine.