sweeper
Eight-hundred slender fingers / on a bound hand / gently kiss the contours / of the plane
reconstruction
Today’s poem is the first January River thing that’s been published elsewhere, which is really exciting! Check it out!
fraternal
The floor is paved with wooden planks / rough and scratched / peeling, mismatched
Withdrawal
He felt no pain. Not yet. He could see the pain there, of course…he knew what it was, and knew that he could take it out, pick it up, allow himself to feel it…
Secret Weapon
Heltia had left Palloren as prepared as any warrior could be for the long journey to the Infinite Armory. Now, as she finally stood in the fabled Hall of Implements, she feared it would come to naught…