Scarecrow Reaping nothing from what's been sown, arms outstretched, forsaken, he wears his unkempt crown; king of the hand-me-down. Dressed forever in the same tattered rags that suck the wind through or hang from his frame with the weight of the morning's rain, he sways; a metronome to an orchestra of gale and sleet. … Continue reading Two poems by Brett Evans
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Two poems by Wendy Pratt
Haunted For eight nights you haunt me- more than just the echo of your loss – I dream my body is your vessel, again. I am earthy and taut, my skin the drum on which you beat a reassuring prattle of small limbs: an elbow, a heel, the hard pressure of your head pressed up … Continue reading Two poems by Wendy Pratt
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