Finalist | Poetry
From The Wife Dreams of Sacrificing FeetSomeone (is it my son?) goes behind the yellow gauzy curtain. Do you hear
the echoing footsteps on the stone tiles outside? My feet twitch, beg me to run.
From The Wife Dreams of Sacrificing FeetSomeone (is it my son?) goes behind the yellow gauzy curtain. Do you hear
the echoing footsteps on the stone tiles outside? My feet twitch, beg me to run.
