cradle this role
of an unnamed
creature in our
unreal world
dead branches
offer backbone
roots open into
constellations
in snowy filaments
of tired memory
you tried to believe
in figments I know
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
the next time I see you
I guess I'm at that stage where I'm telling random people that my mom died. As I was checking in my luggage at the airport, the de...
No comments:
Post a Comment