Winter
by Kristy Gherlone
There are knives in the eaves.
There are shards of glass in the streets.
There is a serial killer just outside my window.
I’d complain further, but there’s a heart attack in my driveway.
Winter
by Kristy Gherlone
There are knives in the eaves.
There are shards of glass in the streets.
There is a serial killer just outside my window.
I’d complain further, but there’s a heart attack in my driveway.
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