I roll him out to the Water Lilies, breakaway one foot at a time.  I watchmy father from across the room, baldhead angled up, swaying under eightby eight feet of psychedelic purples, blues,and living greens. I read once that waterlilies are always hungry, and I’m thinkingthis when my father is pulled out of hischair into…

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: