Covering (Fig)ures I plastered leaf with spit to My bare breast, it fell to The earth, drenched in My feeble attempt. Desperately, I drew silt – Still, it did not stay. Stuck in a thickening crust He handed me piercing Bone and stiff vine Together, we wove – Hoping for bird feathers, Hidden, shivering.
Danielle Page is a truth-teller, writer, and educator. When she’s not reading up on composition theory, she’s scribbling in her moleskine journal or hiking a mountainous trail. Her work has appeared in the Whale Road Review, Calla Press, Poetry Pacific, and elsewhere.