Eve Taft is a writer who lives in Minneapolis. She loves James Joyce, rainy days, and stories about magic.

Pandora

your fingers ghosting across my shoulders

push me off balance every so lightly

into your deep eyes, falling through

a dusky red room, dripping candelabras

my fingers passing through the flames

betting my skin against the warmth

I know my right from my wrong

but when you study my skin like an astronomer

find art and myths in my galaxy wrists

I wonder where I could buy indulgences

and remember you are right in front of me

[image: Cosmos Love | Dmitry Kuznetsov]