After seven years
the curse broken into wind
new dawn on my face
How does it work?
More stories from Test and writers in Poets and other communities.
Three months was plenty to smell the mildew of old robes and the perfume of ambition that sticks to every hymnal. They told me it was formation but the concrete was already cracked. The professors fed on trauma politely, like ravens in clerical collars.
By Test6 months ago in Poets
I can’t sleep because I’m stressed My mind won’t slow at night Work tension keeps me pressed I’m tired before daylight
By Rick Henry Christopher 8 days ago in Poets
A strawberry onesie With feet to match A pattern all over your body Like it’s the whole patch Your big blue eyes How much farther you can see
By Amy4 days ago in Poets
I am stranded. Fill in the blanks. I guess the Indians are punishment for... what, not following the demons of the mound? The reaction to that would be? Salty.
By Kayla McIntosh3 days ago in Confessions
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