In the chrysalis, of this,
marplot moment,
Let our love be buried,
On the backs
of turtledoves.
And be the blanket for my bones.
.
For when our parabola
snaps,
And the sinews give way,
Our time will
push the tide in.
.
In the chrysalis.
Posted on by QuiffedLiterati
Published by QuiffedLiterati
Christopher is a doctoral researcher at the University of Warwick. He researches the novel since the turn of the twenty-first century in the North Atlantic Archipelago, focusing on the intersection of literature, political philosophy, poststructuralism, post-critique, and the state. He is currently writing on the aesthetics of the secret in fiction. View all posts by QuiffedLiterati
