Photo by Mark König on Unsplash
i have kissed the sky
atop the Rocky Mountains;
gratefully in love.
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More stories from Dakota Boll and writers in Poets and other communities.
I Am a Prisoner who Dreams of Prisons
The dream always starts the same: I feel the cold bite of wind gnawing through clothes entirely inadequate to protect from the weather and I realize I am standing in line. Ahead of me and behind me are other inmates, identified by the burgundy scrubs we were issued upon arrival. I don't know where we're going.
By Kyle Cejka3 days ago in Fiction
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