March 10, 2017


Poem | 'Messenger'

"It was anybody’s son at the door/   in the dripping green slicker/      with the unsigned contract for selling my soul"

Two Poems

"After two weeks’ absence, the clover is high as a fence. / The weeds are white-tipped frills of grass"

Last Word: The Waiting Room

While the Church of the Covenant of the Sacred Heart serves as a haven, Turkey itself can be hard on those forced to make the country their temporary home.
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