If I were her, I
would never eat another
blueberry again.
How does it work?
I love blueberries
More stories from Kay Husnick and writers in Poets and other communities.
violence a last word before a shot rings out, a wound, a slumped body under words Prove Me Wrong, and we are left divided, pointing fingers before a suspect is named
By Kay Husnick6 months ago in Poets
patience pushing through provocation and pain with poise passively plastered on unperturbed faces papering over the cracks formed
By ali8 days ago in Poets
Hair stands, stiff again Bearded boys breathing in nude Soft selves, collapsing
By Aaron Calloway7 days ago in Poets
The birds feasted at Aylesford on the flesh of both Saxon and Celt King Horsa alone lying undefiled till claimed by Aeronwen's raven
By John Cox3 days ago in Chapters
Comments (1)
I love blueberries