The night has a long hairy pelt
Issue #116
Winter 2011-12
The night is tall and strewn with rocks cutting my feet as I climb, panting under the blankets, the quilt. Will it ever be light again? I hear sounds outside, footsteps that I hope are a deer’s cloven hooves. Coywolves...
Purchase an archive subscription to see the rest of this article.
Purchase an archive subscription to see the rest of this article.
