🙞 Southeastern US-based writer/poetess 🙜
Almost every day, I drive by the spot my brother bled out onto in 1989 It’s a patch of sidewalk on the corner of a fire station
By Kayla Frances Murray6 months ago in Poets
Flowers in a Vase Molucca balm in glass, upright, parallel to my lips; I inhale mauve irises, muted fixations gathered by another
By Kayla Frances Murrayabout a year ago in Poets
I once almost wore a veil into forests of burnt umber and sea with the son of a Mexican migrant smoke rose from a bougainvillea-print
By Kayla Frances Murray2 years ago in Poets
I once scried Tom Hanks in a bowl of Tom Kha Tofu soup & not in a ‘wow, that lemongrass is taking shape of Tom Hanks’ kind eyes!’ kind of way,
you spread fresh-ground almond butter on semolina & seed toast you spread the laundry across that bulky primitive-print chair and fold neatly
