same as any other spring the crow beaks drip red and a wishbone is bleaching on the window sill - it’s nothing like blood, I know that now. I am kept up early by the dry snap of branches and the deer collapsed on roadside lupines licking at their wounds. I’ve held a lot of hands and therefore a lot of bones - I can tie cherry stems in my mouth I just can’t do it while you watch. – McCAELA PRENTICE
McCaela Prentice (she/her) is living in Astoria, New York. She is (unsuccessfully) growing an herb garden. Her poems have previously appeared in Hobart, Ghost City Review, and Perhappened. Her debut chapbook “Junk Drawer Heart” was published in 2020 by Invisible Hand Press.