Sữa: milk. (Watch the dip of your tongue–Sửa: to fix.) Curdle rinsed. Empty plastic gallons windchimed against your collected hollow aluminum. Cans creased sharp. Sliced your and mother’s fingerprints. Stung to grip the bag. Big enough to float. Gravity-less smile on cartoon Earth. Revolving wheels crush and haybale. Overalled, the attendant opened our bag to sortContinue reading ““Speak, Plastic,” a Poem by Jade Hidle”
Snarl 