Valzhyna Mort: Three Poems
It’s as if somebody threw at him slices / of skinned grapefruit. / Every time she hits him—I hit her. / Look at this. Look whom you’ve bred. //… More
It’s as if somebody threw at him slices / of skinned grapefruit. / Every time she hits him—I hit her. / Look at this. Look whom you’ve bred. //… More