Two No-Nos in a RowAnn Neuser Lederer
As for the story of little-pink-balls: dangling on threads like earrings. As for the training operations, completed with ketamine: the kittens' blank eyes, their new raw cuts, their jerky spider legs, trying to climb the walls of the drained bathtub. Bubbling up from who knows where: an ancient tarpit, a dormant volcano, laughter, a cauldron, a taproot. Certain trees throw down a taproot, a deep anchor. Nothing can blow them over. Certain trees should be shot. Take that Bradford Pear now: No root system at all. Or Wild Cherries along the fence line, fence long gone. Because the birds sat there and shat and spat. No wonder the farm hands want to burn them to the ground, to save the unborn foals from poison bag worms, green and writhing among the grass blades.
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