Poems from Margaret Aether

Ghosts of memories I have never had press up against me in this place. I hear the echoes of your footsteps running up and down the paneled...
I was the final descendant, the last of my kind.   Our bones were built of bread, our enemies in tiny Bits in our bellies, their taste...
leap; slide in the dust of clean floorslow motion, as a rubber band snapand sweet focusin courage; extensions of psycheundulate motion in...