The south in me drips
Like honey off a biscuit
Into his mouth
He swallows
Lulled by smoke wings
His bees buzz me to sleep
Large hands reach
And it tastes,
Like stings

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Did anyone see the moon tonight?

It was fat and lounging heavily on the horizon. Fat and bloated and bloody red

Orange like a pumpkin turning towards rot.

Ants would make it a home and burrow in, in search of food

Burrow into that earth dirt smell of flesh metallic…

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Julie Gillis Storytelling

Julie Gillis Storytelling

The Junk Drawer of My Mind: Essays/Stories/Photographs