Who Were You in a Dream?

Wet lilies rest on the Pontiac. The tarmac is coated in ivory grease, like spilt French fries on the driveway. But underneath, it is red. Maroon like wine. Carmine like the powdered beetle-crushed and squashed between my nails. All the ivory in the world cannot consume the red. It reverberates and bleeds into the dahlias […]