• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 01
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Words slip across her palms
trail from her fingertips
a breadcrumb trail for the magpies
chattering at her heels
               give me! give me! give me!
she pulls her hat
down low
muffling the squawks
she looks up to a metal sky
mercury drops she cannot catch
letters drowning
in the reflecting pools
               rat a tat tat
claws and beaks on concrete
she could wear gloves
but what might speak in the silence?