The Carnal Flower

Editor back-issues, poetry

A carnal flower grows in my garden, and each night, like clockwork, when the sun slumbers, giving way to the Afterdark, I pick it and settle it in my tweed pocket. I keep it safe through the darkness, where I disappear into the shadows, becoming endlessly elegant. Sitting in the hush of the violet hour.   by Tate Geborkoff  …

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