The sun spreads
like a pelt
on the carpet.
A mother
skins the light,
efficient, wears it
as her own.
This is a survival chore.
MICRO
The sun spreads
like a pelt
on the carpet.
A mother
skins the light,
efficient, wears it
as her own.
This is a survival chore.
MICRO
Nobody would even know.
MICRO
Yesterday, he caused his eighth accident. Tomorrow, his tenth.
MICRO
All to the core you have me bitten, as if I’m the one to suffer from dysentery or rabies.