Tag Archives: prose poetry

0 in the Dreamscape

OCan’t bring my hands near to the glassy eyed doe. Two dead ones in the day, downy tufts of fur blanketing the trail 10 feet from the carcass. Step onto the nest, a soft white belly. Something motherly and soporific. The sky pinkens; rain pools in the hollow made by the uprooted oak. A new born fawn is bubble gum stuck to the pearly ribcage. A man scavenges beside me for new centaur parts, snaps off the hooves.

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