I have closed my mouth.
The ridged earth is cold and hard.
The pressures playing out beneath the skin
do not trouble the surface.
The small dance of hands across the surface
does not stir the deep.
There are no words for this.
Telling: Streams & Logs
I have closed my mouth.
The ridged earth is cold and hard.
The pressures playing out beneath the skin
do not trouble the surface.
The small dance of hands across the surface
does not stir the deep.
There are no words for this.