306 Readings | 2 Ratings
She longs to be
A falling leaf
From a falling tree
In the wake of autumn.
Dedicated to the eponymous cousin, who suffers from a form of autism.
Hey stop I what the children! / Billy get your finger out of your nose! / Who’s gonna carry the baby Jesus? / Everyone in places, begin again / …
Honey ran down the stained-glass window / of the mausoleum. / It tasted sweet, like pomegranates. / / The tomb was silent / and pregnant as…
it started off good, but then got weird,…
We pumped our fists low and near our sides, almost like we were dancing in wheelchairs. / / Purses, drinks, coats and hats and keys and shirts…
The crops grow toward her, 165 degrees. She is the sun, she’s the bitch the water jugs two heavy on her chest her shoulders creak cows are in moo…
More by Robert Moura
When I was eight years of age I lived near a forest of evergreens, Their needles strewn across the grounds, / And rocks like headboards…
Whether she knew or not / I had three wishes for her. / / The first was to replace / Those opal bones / And birch skin / With dyes from…
My name is Jonah and I work for food. / Today and tomorrow / We walk across fertile streets / To pick summer squash. / / When you pick the…
Last year we saw something, a ring around her eye. At first we did nothing, found some excuse, a watersport. But it grew darker and hurt her more....
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