Knife-cuts Like Questions on My Left Wrist | Three Poems by D. E. Benson

Waking, Or Knife-cuts like Questions on my Left Wrist “I wake up and on the other side of the bed is a name that claims me. I cannot conjure what I was before that moment: rays slicing through the wood door are knife cuts like the questions on my left wrist. What is a man? […]

from Brittle Paper https://ift.tt/2pQ7x8j