Poetry by Sarah Burgoyne
but where is my mother? ah, ah yes, by now she is the entire west
out the window, the milky way lets fall its milk from bright glass jars
the fish of the stream won’t stop dreaming
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Poetry by Sarah Burgoyne
but where is my mother? ah, ah yes, by now she is the entire west
out the window, the milky way lets fall its milk from bright glass jars
the fish of the stream won’t stop dreaming
Read More