1. Tuck me close at times like these, my child, my child, my child. Enclosurecreeps,it
By Lori Palmer-Tulley7 months ago in Poets
sleet caught in lashes - herons glide, slick through mirrors upside-down and free.
By Lori Palmer-Tulley3 years ago in Poets
We are filthy. We have stubborn blood soaked into our palms’ readings we are filthy. We have our wounds stung by the tangerine’s juice and sealed shut
By Lori Palmer-Tulley5 years ago in Poets
