the edge of the world looked different than we had thought it might.
we scrounged our belongings, pulled weeds to make tea, ran on
water to save time—short cuts all. I took what sun there was
and kept it in a jar. Torpedoed through the foggy notion of what
dies on survival instinct? You can call us desperados, at least
desperate enough to take a chance on seeing the end of the fall.
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Ian Parker is a poet and musician living in Portland, Oregon. He has been previously published by orangepeel literary magazine, infinite scroll, Literary Forest Poetry Magazine, and in a forthcoming issue of wildscape. lit journal.