i was in the dark though. it was a meat dark. but i was in it. i was inside it like a seed. there were protuberances like sharp-ass rocks and i was desperate, i say. and root-filled. but i found a way outside it. i pulled and crawled me on out of it and there was meat for days. there was meat for the fat white flies even. there was meat for the children. hey down a down. meat for days.
Sara Couden Read Bio Author Discusses Poems
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