I collect bones and bottle caps.
She seeks what he locks — what, six times, blind seekers sought locked in Bluebeard's room
By Kaylie Stenbergabout a year ago in Poets
Eyes of baby blue see the world, and see it new just like you used to.
Every man knew why the river flowed home that day with blood that bleeds blue.
Wind whips against my scales as I soar down the mountain. The full force of winter is coming gently this year, bearing itself in one ongoing shower of snow that covers the land flake by flake.
By Kaylie Stenbergabout a year ago in Earth