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Poems of love and unlove, alternate husbands and daughters, of parallel lists, of gardens of forking paths.
“Five years after your passing, I inch to flip the page, I spiral. Without light, I haven’t changed the sheets. Your drool. Your gift without giving. Music dripping from your mouth that collected into a pool.”
Poems of love and unlove, alternate husbands and daughters, of parallel lists, of gardens of forking paths.
“Five years after your passing, I inch to flip the page, I spiral. Without light, I haven’t changed the sheets. Your drool. Your gift without giving. Music dripping from your mouth that collected into a pool.”