Featherman Choices rub up against you that way, not like purring cats seeking to have their bellies rubbed, rather like scratchy wool pressing against the skin, an uncomfortable emery board rubbing it raw. Like…
When It Rains After months of drought I emerge soaked. Our bodies quenched, I salt the earth between us So nothing grows. Instead, I gift purple plums that ripen and rot on shaved necks:…
All Behind Him “I’m glad it’s spring at last,” he thought walking through the sacristy door and towards the altar. “People drop like flies during the cold months.” After all these years, the priest…