Mourning
“I know how the coyote in the story feels,” I say with my voice cracking under the truth of it.
I remember things from long ago
“I know how the coyote in the story feels,” I say with my voice cracking under the truth of it.
I wrote and memorized a poem for one of my classes. The poem is supposed to, well,…. you read it
“Sometimes if feels like you are the only one pulling the canoe and the other half of it is doing