Day: May 9, 2019

Sandra’s ember-specked face fixed itself on the diminishing fire. She twitched every time a coal would crack, but still moved her lawn chair closer to the waning flames. Her husband wobbled, unsteady from excessive whiskey, out from the shed’s
Cu Chulainn, the summer disfigures me. When the soil swells with that impossible heat and the air clings to my alveoli and sticks you collect to, as some residue, some form of subtle irritation lining my pores and blossoming
It’s north a bit, the mountains brown and pink behind it. The dirt, the scrub brush, all things dry and ready, smell like tinder. Like an unlit match. Things creak out here that you can’t see. Call out across

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