cloth we’re cut from
I guess I imagined gossamer curtains. Sunlight dappling in. A breeze, lifting, billowing, creating magical shadows. I imagined a softness, a drape. I imagined spilling language like this. Instead, I am burlap and worn velvet ribbon. In some places I am thicker, and hold a crease. I abrade a bit when rubbed too hard. I… Read More