Back then, the only English you knew was my name. Running toward the shipyard, Lifting crates from the cobblestone.
By Aricka Gannon11 months ago in Poets
You tell yourself to run when the fire comes. You take off when the first ember bursts from the pit. You don't wait for the grass to catch flame. You know it will, and it does.
By Aricka Gannon3 years ago in Fiction
