Sunday, March 31, 2019

Where A Lamp Is Lit

Light spills through a window filtered by a broken blind onto a littered street; a flood of warmth amidst blight. I imagine someone is sheltering there— away from the graffiti on the warped plywood boarding up the next house, the pawn shop wrapped in bars, needles on the ground.

-Patricia Thrushart
 http://www.thewatershedjournal.org/

No comments:

Post a Comment

A Dream

“Not my will but thine,” I hear in an echo of a dream where a woman is brushing  sand off my back, her nipples pressed against it, saying, “...