Amy Leigh Wicks

DAY 22 the pandemic between us Blackened trees are fallingone after another in northern California. Your chainsaw might be a spooncutting through dark chocolate cake. Where I am, roses confetti the ground—lavender, magenta, pink, white, yellow. It’s midday tomorrow in Marlborough and I’mreading your letter under the arms of a pine whose body is large… Continue reading Amy Leigh Wicks