You're looking at me as though I'm enough to strike your match, hit home; and it'll devour you, lungs first as you watch me, your worst. Frankenstein, you and I, your pocket litter. . Ephemera balled in your jeans - Picasso of your genes. You sud yourself neck-deep in lemon scented hand… Continue reading Pentimenti
Tag: Family
Where the Hearth Is
My father's home is not my mother's and yet, my home is theirs too. I share their walls, and they share my doors, but our lights don't have the same hue. The carpet between our toes don't rub the same places, nor do the scars in the bathtub draw the same lines. I trace the… Continue reading Where the Hearth Is
