The wounds are still rivers
The wolves consumed the moon
The wisdom has not bubbled up
The window is still fogged
The well is covered in slugs
The walls are hemorrhaging
My hands are in the air
The isn’t the dream I dreamed of

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: