Blog by Hannah Frank
Take me home, sweet statue of stone,
your smooth skin beckons my hand to rise from my side
and strike your thousand-year-old cheek.
The stripes from my human sweat
leave a mark on the calm marble
while my heart races.
There is no proper time to make a proper edit to this page of life No sentence unscathed which behooves itself to avoid run-on No gerund to ...