Thomas dragged her body up the cliff path.
Her legs became encrusted with crushed baubles of heather.
Garlands of sweat dried on her skin, the salt caught
the light like fish scales. Later, he fed her soup.
He called her the Christmas fairy as he picked snowflakes
from her hair. When she coughed, he saw pixie dust settling,
her arms prickled his like a swaying fern.
At noon, she slapped his face, but it bruised hers,
when she left, he had never been.