She told me to write about potatoes:
her voice dripped
from rain clouds.
I honestly couldn’t describe us better.
small knives
in keen hands
and ashy hair from the fire.
glowing faces from beyond
I write poetry, I guess
She told me to write about potatoes:
her voice dripped
from rain clouds.
I honestly couldn’t describe us better.
small knives
in keen hands
and ashy hair from the fire.
glowing faces from beyond