Tag Archives: Kate Birch

Cruelty

I. New England smelled like candlesticks the day we bent our fingers into Grandpa’s pool and asked him why the seasons changed. He mentioned something about the sun rotating in its damned, ceaseless circles, but you and I, we winked … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Pink Lace Education

I. I will not waste my time with men who don’t know they’re afraid. I will bandage my hair in a topknot and come closer until I see the whites of their eyes reflecting my red dress. A little perfume … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment