What could be worse
than its body
inching out of the dark stuff
of the dead stump
deep in the woods?
I remember
how it flushed forth
from the tap of my boot-toe
and how the fear showered
in my red veins
like a black fire.
Yet this was worse:
What could be worse
than its body
inching out of the dark stuff
of the dead stump
deep in the woods?
I remember
how it flushed forth
from the tap of my boot-toe
and how the fear showered
in my red veins
like a black fire.
Yet this was worse:
Rachel Cusk photo courtesy the author.
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