in the moment, it is soft and warm and dead, its head lolling forward like the hydrangeas weighed down by rainwater in front of the house. my wife calls me gently from her office. she heard it strike the glass and looked out to see it try to lift its head twice before it stilled. […]
C.C. Apap
C.C. Apap grew up in the kind of Detroit suburb that had a functioning farm just over the back fence. His poetry has been featured or is forthcoming in Dunes Review, Genuine Gold, Eunoia Review, and Belt Magazine.