by Kathleen Janeschek
When I stop to touch another’s skin,
my fingers curve around their limbs and
push down into silky fat woven into muscle
into meat upon bone into the texture of vessels
charting course between the ridges Continue reading
by Kathleen Janeschek
When I stop to touch another’s skin,
my fingers curve around their limbs and
push down into silky fat woven into muscle
into meat upon bone into the texture of vessels
charting course between the ridges Continue reading
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