The hearts of fish have only two. Snow and sun, and slipping lungs; this winter weightless, the wood stack thick with snake skins, anything to enclose the space with which we don’t know what to do, blood pumping: bed, bullet, tomb.
Sarah Kilch Gaffney
Sarah Kilch Gaffney is a writer, brain injury advocate, and homemade caramel aficionado living in Maine. You can find her work at www.sarahkilchgaffney.com.