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The Secret Code This is how a woman unfolds sin by sin, wipes away the memories that condense like fog on the glass of her heart, as if what’s beneath deciphers life. When she thinks of home, it is always in the colors of night. Tomorrow is just a name meaning: another day, another story hung from a string thin as an eyelash. Fat ghosts hover above the bed where she worshipped a silver wolf. The better to see you my dear, the better to feel your skin, soft as powdered gold. Yet, when she thinks of her husband, it is sometimes with softness. 30 ...

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