The only one I pass as I walk south is clad in the copper of his skin; hair grey as the belly of the bird above falls caught by a twist of cord. I lie down on sand listen to the static look through the halos at the tip of my eyelashes and watch the pulse of my…
Author: Carol Maxwell
Requiem
She really has to pee but her white sport socks slip on the wooden floor as she moves through the bathroom door way and she slumps, left hip down. A spasm of cells up her spine sneezes and she smiles at herself in the mirror as she spins to drop onto the toilet seat. Elbows, at first go, miss her…