what remains
By Marcela Croitoru
sometimes I imagine my mind
tinged with soot at the margins
as more and more words
vanish from the fire that rages
inside my brain
in that space, at the core
not yet touched by flames,
one word remains:
home.
Poetry
what remains
By Marcela Croitoru
sometimes I imagine my mind
tinged with soot at the margins
as more and more words
vanish from the fire that rages
inside my brain
in that space, at the core
not yet touched by flames,
one word remains:
home.
