It had been fourteen days. The painting was gone and with it my heart. Authored by an amateur it had meant more to me than any museum in the world. Each day that passed felt like a relentless excavation into my chest, letting in the outside ice and snow t…

Not quite white

or gray

or blue

.

The moon is a muse

Mainstay

Voodoo

.

A means to an end

risque

preview

.

Beating hearts, abuse

love sway

untrue

.

The moon, impassive

midway

withdrew

.

Left lovers lost

cold day

tears few

.

Returned to mock

hearsay

statue

…

Anthony fingered the thick woolen blanket that nearly suffocated him with stuffy heat. The fabric was rough, well-worn from use by his grandmother who had passed it down to his mother. Now it was his.

It was foolish to be wrapped in wool during the hotte…