A younger version of herself might have gifted her body to him, for a night. But it is herself she is returning to, and she is greedy for it, so she will not share.
Three Poems by Hanna Andrews
night driver you’ve got your night posture on your profile pieced together with cellular backdrop & booth bearing cotton your hands toy at the napkin holder and beyond your elbow bright headlights meet window but only long enough to search…
3 Poems from Rob Carney’s “Call and Response”
Ever Wish You Were Famous? I knew a man who made money as a silhouette. That outline standing upstream, brilliantly backlit by morning, that was him. The famous photo. Chin to the north. They’ve got a museum now somewhere, and…