Adam’s Apple

To boys of blue: you must not cry,for yours is but to do and die;to march without the dire complexand folly of the weaker sex. The world that you were born intohas spaces carved out just for you,ripe with fruit fit for your pleasure—pick and plunder at your leisure. Power over crafted creatures,(fragile forms with…

The Cradle and the Crow

They are forged not birthed, those little girls with toes dipped in the grave, preyed upon by old crows perched on cradles, picking at dead flesh. In that sea of blood and half-life the pages of your holy book have grown damp. The trumpet has gone mute, and so you must carve your interpretation between…