Tuesday, January 19, 2016

"Bird Island I" by Eve Stockton

All around this place is watery abyss.We have ripped these arboreal bodies bare and built our nests in their spindly, open arms. Our young will hatch and shriek for sustenance, and we will travel back and forth, over and over to bring it to them. These nests are like aging dandelion blossoms waiting for the last of their tuffed seeds to float away.

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