Poetry Month: Day Eighteen

A little something in case you can’t sleep.

It became a hungry woman with hissing hair and scales for scalp.
Does it need medication? Do you miss it entirely,
like a cut-down breast misses her blood engine?

—from ‘Delicate, Fingerless’ by Rachel McKibbens

And if you think you’ll be up for a while, she puts some pretty sensational writing prompts up on her blog.

One thought on “Poetry Month: Day Eighteen

  1. Pingback: Bless Me, Reader, for I Have Sinned | Elizabeth O'Connell-Thompson

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