by Alec Hershman
I buried my face
in the coats, my face in the wreath
on the door—cinnamon bristles
and the party behind me
warped in ornaments. I felt the cold outside Continue reading
by Alec Hershman
I buried my face
in the coats, my face in the wreath
on the door—cinnamon bristles
and the party behind me
warped in ornaments. I felt the cold outside Continue reading