“When I open the door, I face the drooping sun. The light in my face is bright, not warm.”
FICTION | NONFICTION | POETRY
SUBMIT STORE DONATE OPPORTUNITIES INTERVIEWS WRITERS WE PUBLISH
Epiphany's Holiday Party is December 12th at Francis Kite Club!
All tagged death
“When I open the door, I face the drooping sun. The light in my face is bright, not warm.”
“for her daughters to release her / into the river of her choosing”
“John Lennon is singing I’m So Tired. / I know you’re tired. As you burn in this Brooklyn kitchen,”
by Yoojin Na
When can I see you? we asked each other, but we really wanted to know, when can we be in the same room? When can we kiss, touch, and hold one another? How long must we emulate the sexless lives of hermits? A few more weeks, a few more months, a whole year?
