laughs
the knife in her hand
heavy with the memory of
meat
once there was water
once there was sun
she remembers
life
is diving down wanting
to drown but the body betrays
it bursts through forcing you
to unwillingly
breathe
—
Angie Werren lives (and writes) in a tiny house in Ohio. Sometimes she takes pictures of things in the yard.
Nice work. I am hoping to get my poetry on here.
Thank you.