A wave curled over my bed last night, fell into my center.
Surf ran through each cell. The words I saved for today
left empty space. It felt like that glow around the waning crescent moon.
I forget how it is when I finish a poem, so still inside.
A Magazine Of Fiction And Poetry
A wave curled over my bed last night, fell into my center.
Surf ran through each cell. The words I saved for today
left empty space. It felt like that glow around the waning crescent moon.
I forget how it is when I finish a poem, so still inside.