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...