The Friction of Leaves I imagine my aunt cradled the wedge of wood like an unborn infant, her palms weighing the potential. Her fingers, slivered by Braille, skimmed the timber’s lineage before rewriting it in a pile of shavings spun into Fibonacci spirals:   a face born from a branch. Twenty years later, the dust…

This content is for Basic Member, Friends of Burningword 3-Day Pass, Friends of Burningword 3-Month Subscription, and Friends of Burningword Annual Subscription members.
Log In Register
Listed at Duotrope
Listed with Poets & Writers
CLMP Member
List with Art Deadline
Follow us on MagCloud
%d bloggers like this: