Roger Gilbert-Lecomte – 4 poems
Scarlet fever. The provisions, a little crust of bread on the nightstand. At the tense limits of confidence, I hear steps—all too real—going up the stairs.
Continue Reading https://gobbetmag.wordpress.comScarlet fever. The provisions, a little crust of bread on the nightstand. At the tense limits of confidence, I hear steps—all too real—going up the stairs.
Continue Reading https://gobbetmag.wordpress.com
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