She has fallen from the sky into this dark room where powdery graphite smudges her fingers, where the diamonds scattering the floor cut her feet. And outside the tide clock pounds. Continue reading Girl in a Borrowed Cloak by Amanda Oosthuizen
Though she’s allergic to my peanut love,
mom makes the lunchtime sandwich each morning,
says a prayer, takes a breath, rewraps the loaf,
tempers my warm smile with her chill warning. Continue reading Peanut Love by Chad Musick
Later, you’ll say it was like rosemary.
Like clean. Like lavender