Grasping at Water
by Kevin Acers

It is childlike and foolish to plunge an impulsive hand into the lake thinking somehow one can pull out a sparkling handful, jiggling like jelly, as easily as grabbing a snowball. I do it anyway with the inevitable outcome: a twinge of heartbreak as I stare mystified at an empty fist opening slowly to reveal only my own splayed fingers. They are wet at least, briefly dripping with hope

Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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