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go home PersephoneDew on the whitecaps. I'm up to my ankles in cut grass, fingers brittle from this new cold, like a handful of bobby pins. Line of quiet vertebrae and scale of careless bicepgo home Persephone
extend up to the morning blue sky.
Pennies clink and jangle in your pockets as you quick step over the stones laid by some long-forgotten river.
Twine whips around each wrist, signs of boredom you created while sitting on that fence post and watching the cows.
Then, it still felt like a moist autumn.
My mind lists: candlewax, wings, twine as you point out a Cooper's
by *drylandfish
has passedOnce I took raw bacon and made myself a picnic by the alligator pond, my pink blanket edged up against the chain-link fence that separated me from the swampy musk.has passed
I fed the alligator the meat through the fence,
my fingers slimy, but not shivering.
I had dealt with apprehension before, when I had to clean up the house before my birthday party, and there were beer bottles stuffed under
the living room chairs and the couch cushions.
I felt the cold on my mother's knuckles as she inhaled and exhaled the past and present, until I pointed out that only the filter w
by *drylandfish
idby *drylandfish
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