I peer through the holes in the sheets, I poke my finger through, wiggle my thumb, wonder when we’ll all be done.
Sarah
Sarah is a vein, a dark thread in the meat they process for the chicken tenders.
9 weeks
With candlesticks and Midsummer Commons we laughed, the sunset never stopped our light, we were kids with a limbo-like future.
Red block
A poem about when disordered eating swallows menstruation.
Blueprint 