teeth crumble
in her mouth
white night folds
over on itself
cutting gravel
on her tongue
naked before the rain,
birdsong, the March
there is a time
to live
there is a time
to rest
there is
Poetry & Prose by Siena
teeth crumble
in her mouth
white night folds
over on itself
cutting gravel
on her tongue
naked before the rain,
birdsong, the March
there is a time
to live
there is a time
to rest
there is