As her thumb and forefinger worked into the muscle, she had to pull back, remember how fragile the skin was now, how easily it broke and bruised, despite how much relief and joy her wife got from deep tissue work.
This was one of the few times she felt their twenty-two year age difference—the thinning of this skin. Thirty years ago, she thought she would scandalize her new editor with her butch memoir, only to find herself the scandalized one when Sylvia explained her catholic desires. Now she walks the tightrope between tough and tender to please and care.
Heather Bourbeau wrote the poetry collection Daily Palm Castings, was nominated for a Pushcart Prize, and won the Pisk! Poetry Slam. Her journalism has appeared in The Economist, The Financial Times and Foreign Affairs. She appreciates brevity. heatherbourbeau.com.
A Quiet Courage 