Four Poems


A full moon leaning on a skyscraper. The taste:
qat and sweets on a tropical afternoon.
The dog’s black tongue was more terrifying than its teeth.
The gravestone rising out of the puddle was more sinister
than the body we discovered as children swinging
in the summer hot orchard.

Want to read the rest?
Please login.
New to Narrative? sign up.
It's easy and free.