Poems from hannahromo
A cigarette is half-cocked between her teeth,
resting like a pistol against the gunslinger's hip.
Fog curls around her in a come-hither...
The discomfort is rolling off of me in waves
and they are palpable, tangible on the tip of my tongue,
tasting of the metal that seeps into...
i am tired of a world where
women apologize for the area
they occupy,
and think their most valuable possession
is the negative space...