Feathers. When white feathers, plucked from their maidens fell, when the ruby liquid of my sisters flooded the ground, when squawks and the innocent man called for our death, I knew my war had been
Continue ReadingImagery and Narrative become one
Feathers. When white feathers, plucked from their maidens fell, when the ruby liquid of my sisters flooded the ground, when squawks and the innocent man called for our death, I knew my war had been
Continue Reading