We, who come upon grief / like the hooves of a beast / cresting a hill
POETRY
POETRY
We, who come upon grief / like the hooves of a beast / cresting a hill
MICRO
In / avocado oil. With little pistachios. So many possibilities.
TRANSLATION
"Maybe we should never have left the forbidden paradise
the winged key fled taking flame"
WIT TEA
And like everyone else, I'll want to start a band
RECENTLY PUBLISHED
We sat a while in silence like two strangers, facing each other. I didn’t ask her what had happened or what she had seen, or believed she had seen, in the mirror.
Did she tell me before we were born, we were waiting in the dark? Like leaves hanging on a black tree?
… there are still many things we don’t understand about color, but we lie to ourselves to make ourselves feel safer.
I’m in the sunroom of my Minneapolis apartment when my mother tells me she’s been watching Heartstopper.