It's In

It's in! It's its in. It sits, its its in it. Sit, sin, sit!









Mayfair
Dropped my daisies all over the front porch this morning. Mother's milk spilled all over my apron, fresh and yellowed. Biscuits burn in the oven.
Xathar has returned! Moment's waited too long. Not my Mother lays splayed on the grayed birch of the perch, porched silently in a quilt of her own blood and body. It all happened so fast. I won't be back for suppertime, Mother. I won't be back until far from then.