I met Death last night,
in the alley of a dream,
The old war blanket followed us from one house to another
The texture of two days old stubble, powdered sun-bleached white coral.Never found silk to be so soft,dexterous…
I stand here, shivering and shakingNot daring to move, internally quakingThere it goes again…
She takes in a deep breath, breathing in the rising sun and hoping that the warming rays will spark new inspiration. It’s…