New Language

Thomas and I get drunk one night around the fire pit in the heat of summer and dance under the Vermont sky. My hips sway as my bare feet press into the damp earth, bats dancing through the trees above our heads. The notes of Dreams echoing off the forested hillside next to our house. My blue dress is backless and the wind grazes my skin and along the side of my neck, my hair swirling around my tear-stained face. We have no neighbors; any headlights can be seen far…