Mornings I place them by the open window close to air and light freshly watered freshly changed. I unfold the sheets and eyes follow
From lull of dank, wet wood and passage, too many bodies pressed together; our clothes bleached and worn thin from sun’s glare and winds
Darkness is only a small part of the problem. Your vision works fine—you’ve tested it in daylight. But now you are underground on dusty
Grownups warned us about the treachery of horses, their devious tempers, their suspicion, dark as a hay barn, that could sink them to their