Question asked by Marne Wilson A terrible day’s the one we won’t see coming. It doesn’t slap us around; it silences shrill cries of
ask me about the radiant hat moon makes for that cloud face an hour before dawn ask me about sitting on gravel staring through
Ace Boggess is the author of two books of poetry: The Prisoners (Brick Road Poetry Press, 2014) and The Beautiful Girl Whose Wish Was
