Nov 23, 2022
3 min read
PROSE
Murky Green Bottles
A Prose Poem in Three Snapshots
All I can remember now are the bottles.
Green bottles, that should have been murky, but were surprisingly clear. Even through the murky years, vaporizing tears, and dusty memories.
Memories of the bottles emerged in three distinct snapshots, like little picture postcards searing the meaning…
