Ethan shifted; a sofa spring twanged. “Say again!?” Alice sipped coffee. “Marbles in deep grooves stay stuck–” “–without a catastrophic catalyst.” “Right,” she said. “No groove…easy to make them fall.” … Continue reading
Her fingers are dressed in weathered rings. A lifetime of lacework mottles her skin. Wrinkled, rough knuckles slide beneath tatting threads; fingers shift the shuttle, pulling assured knots. My flower … Continue reading
You burned my goat skin, charred my soul, and wedded me to your son. None asked which of my dreams had turned to ash. You feasted upon my beauty. Dine … Continue reading
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