Author: Rose Booker
Fernweh
Everyday I dream of strong arms, perfume, heartbeats melting into me.
Carbonation
Still black elixir sugar, root caffinated open up, exhale.
Traffic
Pavement moans under rubber wheels racing towards temporary stops.
Belly
Muscles weaved between tendons, skin, last month’s pizza & cheese cake giggles.
Milk Chocolate
Dissolved cocoa Less than 50% pure Bittersweet potion.
Dear Heather Heyer,
You are dead. No wait… Hi, Heather how are you? No, that’s stupid, she is dead… I am sad. True but, argh! Dear Heather I wrote a string of tweets … Continue reading Dear Heather Heyer,
Earl Grey
I taste this morning in sweat dripping from my brow black tea leaves and me.
Sore
pulled taut against bones weighed down by instant noodles trembling excess
