Bethany Pray

In the Eden of memory, the black walnut tree has not been cut down and waves its fern-like leaves above their heads. The schoolmates make their way from grove to pool, throw off their colored shirts, raise their thin white arms, white as seashe [...]

Sunbathing on the honeymoon, his chest was stony, sweatless. His legs were white as toppled columns. An arm shielded his eyes from the island glare. I asked —Did he want a bite of sandwich? Would he oil my back?—My hands flapped at the end of my [...]

You stripped and stood in a column of light among the trees like a lighter tree, and I admired your incandescence, your good form. I lay down on the pine needles and looked up to where the treetops formed a ceiling like stained glass. When I opened m [...]