Linens hang from me I stand to rebuild and restore what was lost The stench of death will stalk me These pains will ache and swell and ooze And after the burial has ended I will emerge naked, broken, and old one with the soil stuck to my palms Maybe I will master the artContinue reading “Linen”
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
Jayne.press 