Living – Carolyn DeCarlo

Your hands are like fists all the time now. Lick the webbing / between your cats’ toes and wish they could set you right. / Know that they never can.

Categorized as ANNEXE

Carolyn DeCarlo

the car and the man inside they were buried there, the car and the man inside, swept over with a blanket of copper leaves under the pavement in front of the house at the end of the street. everyone knew about them, the car and the man inside, and even when we played catch-the-toad with… Continue reading Carolyn DeCarlo