The wind speaks to me as my hair dances free, rooting for me to flee toward what makes me glow. The subtle whispers blow, sending shivers as they flow down to my tender spine, awakening the inner spark I had left behind in time, now reclaiming what is mine where my mind and soul align. ...

She caches her jewelry Cardboard tubes under her mattress Hidden from faces she can’t remember Haunting her with changed bedsheets While disembodied voices perched on telephone wires Check on her She gripes They’re stealing my things At the liar: Voice too old to be her daughter Sunday – no – Wednesday No How can it ...