[Image Description: A frozen lake, it’s icy surface broken in variously sized shards, with dark blue water flooding in between.]
Let Zoë Bracken’s quiet lyricism draw you into an intimate world of longing and revel in the natural images she paints with words.
Read MoreDarkness holds the hands of light
In the crescent of the sun
And the birds cry
And the sloths dance
And the elephants beat their drums
When you talk about beauty,
your body opens up—like a question.
Ground water swells out of your eyes,
rolls down the quiet side of your face.
By the time I had returned the cohort was mobile, and the sharp scent of a fallen pine brought me back into myself. Still, I felt separate. Still, I was waiting. Still, I was shaking in my boots.
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