Taking in the smoke of the ones who lived before

Prose poem: Smells Like Winning

In the winter of 2018-19, I walked by a cemetery and crematorium to catch my bus. Dragging my knuckles home after an unsatisfying day, uphill no less, pass the body markers of others, and the rush of evening traffic. —These are moments poets DREAM of! I am thankful for the times we walk among metaphors.Continue reading “Prose poem: Smells Like Winning”