by Lillian Soshnik-Tanquist
Pegajosa
by Casey McCullough
Clouds wisp by, I can’t grab hold of their
Light and moisture; you slip through my fingers, as
Intimately as puppies tug on the
Nipples of their mother until she has been milked dry and she is
Grieving for her loss as her
Young are taken. (when she is alone, her cries reverberate like thunder.)
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