Skip to content
July 13, 2021 / barton smock

city,

city 100

In the uncounted lamb of my boy's grey voice, stillness is the hair of silence. For every third wrist, an ant's shadow sings to a worried bomb. I am always right. God changes the size of the things we try to save.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: