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Get Published on Female First
Because the curve of a woman
is made of glossy paper
and white teeth
(Upon reflection)
I crumpled my fleshy outline into:
trash cans, bin bags, grief.
A Winter’s Tale
When over the icy row
I see you running, heavy
huffing from running under
the blue moons glow,
you see me:
It smacks me into a wow
and your mouth curls ‘O’
Crisp under foot,
the rest is smoke signals
Bio: Originally from a big borough in the North of London, I now dwell in a small town near Tulsa, Oklahoma, completing my masters in Rhetoric. I got bit by the writing pen at the age of 4, when my hamster tragically died during hibernation. After losing it for a while, the pen chased me down to Keele University, and we’ve been frenemies every since.