a poem
Grimoire of the Maleficarum, Page 157Revoluta Maledicta (Waning Curse)
At twenty-seven, Lenore is cooking alone. She slices the liver into thin pieces, elegant morsels with a rich, ferrous…
You may remember our previously mentioned virtual family:
I went walking with Ellen tonight, my friend and neighbor down the street. I needed groceries for dinner, and my son was…
I write a lot about my father, and what I observe in his nursing home. The “food” I sniff and get no scent from. The thickeners added to…