Laurels Literary Magazine Spring 2015 | Page 25

Onnyx Bei He breathes against my face, looks beyond my pupils, and dilates my intention. We ride through the Shunan Bamboo Sea—far from the mortal world the Flying Daggers dwell. his withers, holding to his tousled mane. O A rush of freedom overcomes us— though I am wingless and he wears reins. [14]