After great pain, a formal feeling comes Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs The stiff Heart questions will I ever be light again? Am I good
Like the leaves squeezed into bags that line my street, it’s time for me to rest my fingers’ beat. Like the epic finale to Purple
This weekend I get to go to New York City to help celebrate a friend’s thirtieth birthday. (I, too, went to NY and Long Island
With a bruised thumb and index finger I draw a line—thin— in hopes that it will widen, between you and me. But it’s dotted, at