Menu

To Begin With

By Kathleen A. Wakefield Poetry

I am going to lie down in the field, grass a green halo over my head. I’ll let the sun singe the peach, my flesh, luxurious, ruined. Let rain have its way with me so I can feel my mother’s washcloth on my face, hand I turned from. Lord, soften the hard pit of my…

Read More

To experience the full archive, log in or subscribe now.

Pin It on Pinterest