not vellum
By Annette Marie Hyder
but something like it
broken down and susurrating
sighing in the breach
the rustle of paper
of pages turning, turning
turns out to be leaves on the street
and the smell of smoke
curling up into the air
is time rustling in flames at our feet
but something like it
broken down and susurrating
sighing in the breach
the rustle of paper
of pages turning, turning
turns out to be leaves on the street
and the smell of smoke
curling up into the air
is time rustling in flames at our feet
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