Back to Issue 13

It will be eight minutes
before we know of it. 

We’ll be out in the wilderness
on a spring afternoon, 

watching the flowers open
themselves as wide as possible

while the frenzied cloud of bees
reaps this new harvest. 

Eight minutes of rising heat. 
We’ll feel it spread on our skin

and welcome its stroke. 
The clothes will vanish 

like the last of night’s dew, 
and we’ll lie down together 

on a verdant bed of living
things, sweat moistening

the places where we touch, 
steam escaping our open mouths. 

It will end as it all began: 
two lovers uniting in flesh, 

eyes closed to the radiance 
burning at the garden’s edge. 

By Matthew J. Andrews

Matthew J. Andrews is a private investigator and writer. He is the author of the chapbook I Close My Eyes and I Almost Remember, and his work has appeared in Rust + Moth, Pithead Chapel, and EcoTheo Review, among others. He can be contacted at