Poetry / Prose Poetry


“They bleed for each other,” Mr. Shifterton said in that all-knowing, dramatic tongue that only writers and philosophers talk like. “Silly, silly kids.” Mrs. Carrysherself licked her sticky lipsticked mouth and nodded along, vodka-glazed eyes batting heavy lids, thick with black and blue dust caked on like sympathy on church Sunday. Clammer-lashed in the kitchen, … Continue reading