“Campfire smoldering / to survive.”

“Harder for her to lead me out of pain, / the ache of it a half-bitten apple, left to bees.”

“I had dreamt the blood / was still warm / & the blood was still warm.”

“The storm door hisses / as it closes behind me.”

Newton didn’t totally hate this place. He traipsed through the brome field with his fishing pole and tackle box. The grass stalks tickled his arms as the humid yellow haze lifted and the edges of the Kansas sky turned purple.

“They put those little white markers out to show where the graves are.”

“I thought they slaughtered horses.”