• Her throat is filled with the sound of glass when she speaks, harsh and loud, like it scrapes it way up from somewhere deep inside her stomach to balance on her tongue. I wonder how she keeps from bleeding, bright and red and awful, and wait for her to press bandages to my lips.

  • I land on my feet like the wind has hands, cradling me in it’s grasp.
    the wind is my mother and my sister, it spreads through my fingers and smiles.
    I never fear falling, because I know it will catch me.

  • The earth is red and cold, full of fear and something that tastes like iron. It leaves a film of residue in the back of my throat and makes me rasp for something, anything, to put out the fire. The earth is red and silent, and I close my eyes to watch it burn behind my eyelids.