I pressed needles into my feet for every second he died and a part of me failed. I threaded through the eyes to tie little yellow bows--a dozen silver splinters, glints of light.
[His] Dead-weight shall make me heavier than the ash/soot filled jars, trash bags. He'll come home in a shoe box to be buried in our backyard--like a hamster--next to his favorite dog.
1 comment:
you should name your blog 'homemade applesauce' instead of 'home and apple.' or call it 'confessions of an assface'
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