This is an entry from an unfinished, semi-released book of grimm themed poems 12 hungry children sit a table a sorrowing feast spun straight from a fable The pitiful spread of bark and berries the oldest remarks while picking at scabies “We’re starving Pa!”, still chewing galangal, “how can we survive with nothing but bramble!”“Worry not my boy”Continue reading “Stories from my lonely forest: 12 hungry children”
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