After Shock
- Don Rearden
- Dec 6, 2018
- 1 min read
the kids cling to us days after broken bottles a shattered clay skull novels scattered paintings hang askew they are still afraid and our words of comfort rupture trust with each aftershock
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then in came the winds screaming down the mountain the giant hemlock shaking angry as us all that the end of April feels like the end of...
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