Hard to find they say
Come look in my fridge some day
Where all blue food hides
How does it work?
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.
More stories from Hailey Marchand-Nazzaro and writers in Poets and other communities.
Spherical tartness I marvel at your tautness July once again
By Hailey Marchand-Nazzaro3 years ago in Poets
It’s a wet green chill As the dew witnesses a fragile season down the hill Stamping the ground, a foggy mist spills, And anchoring around its bend, and threading thro’ the glades,
By Madhu Goteti 2 days ago in Poets
Start by removing their name from your mouth, carefully. Replace it with appropriate weather. Say aloud, “It’s colder lately.”
By Shannon Hilson2 days ago in Poets
Young Aldin of Wiloh had never contemplated death. It was almost strange — so many around him had the tendency to obsess over it, to clamor and claw almost desperately at their own perceptions of the end to know death as much as they could: when it would come, why it would come, where it would take them when it did.
By angela hepworth5 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.