‘Fruit Stand’

It was nothing, to you • But you told me that you would set everything I knew aflame and nursed your coal soul inside of me and I stared at your closet; at your checkered button-down, the way it hid behind all the others, forbidden fruit. I was land-locked, a ship with creaking hull and … Continue reading ‘Fruit Stand’

‘Wound of the Witch’

Sometimes, I figure out where you hide, inside, and it is a bullet wound, entangled in spider plant limbs and sappy with aloe vera, nestled in a brass record player, the stylus propped in place by brown woolen strings, repeating it back again - PERFECTION. • and aren’t you? The way you hold in this … Continue reading ‘Wound of the Witch’