The Simple Truth Part I Wishes stand tall like a tree Tall enough to reach the […]

Claire watches her brother get drunk. He’s gulping from a tall glass of champagne mixed with

Claim your throne. It’s made of bone, but soft and delicate. Marked with your scent. You,

You lent me your favorite book and said to follow the plot, but when I asked

Memory, such a fickle miracle, perpetual and the thing which tethered me to existence. Eternally cursed,

My head drumming the desk is an eternal tinnitus. Not a thwack or a thud. More

I heard they take it real slow, out west. I was excited about it. I’m an

I would never survive without you. Our roots are connected underground, converging like the confluence of

You think my parts are superfluous: you want only what you want—nothing more. First the pruning