POEM: House with Burning Clapboards
And here was the burn, its window smoke glaring up at the house's brow. Blown-out glass leaving a dark tetris of mouths. I knew a boy who sheared his own sheep for a long-shouldere…
And here was the burn, its window smoke glaring up at the house's brow. Blown-out glass leaving a dark tetris of mouths. I knew a boy who sheared his own sheep for a long-shouldere…