Kelsey E. Moore
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Visitation On the porch, under a Blood Moon, our fire is dying down, so we wear wool blankets over our shoulders. We’re drinking cider warmed in a pan on the stove, splashed into mugs with whiskey. This cold is still new, still exhilarating; the season is shifting, like the roll of a wave against your body. Out across the salt marsh, somewhere deep in the pines, the coyotes begin to howl. It is a sound that is hard not to love, even as it ripples through you, awakening a fear that sleeps at the base of your spine. Read More |
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Visitation (rerun) On the porch, under a Blood Moon, our fire is dying down, so we wear wool blankets over our shoulders. We're drinking cider warmed in a pan on the stove, splashed into mugs with whiskey.... Read More |
