by Annaliese | Jun 29, 2013 | FULL COLLECTION, Poetry, Poetry, SELECTED WORKS
Drink up, I tell you. It’s only my Mum. A cup of real woman. Dead six years, cremated at McHoul’s on Center Street – most of her, they tell me, filtered out through the stack, sucked into the clouds, blown high over goldenrod-stained fields, drizzled into the West...