Published in Red Flag Poetry
What a cruel
occupation
it is to breathe
when you are nothing
more than snow
in my warm hands.
Truly, I have never
envied the fresh mud
below my feet more.
Published in Red Flag Poetry
What a cruel
occupation
it is to breathe
when you are nothing
more than snow
in my warm hands.
Truly, I have never
envied the fresh mud
below my feet more.