“My home is made of doors, / One stacked on top of another / To form the walls of an open cage / From which I cannot escape”
Tag: creative writing
Cicada // Part 1
“The next summer—fascinated—she collected the shells leftover from Cicada Season. Armed with a shoebox and nimble fingers, she wandered around the yard with bare feet, with the grass tickling her toes.”
papier-mâché // composite of an identity
The paint is chipping, she thinks, distantly. The paint is chipping and there is only cheap paper underneath, papier-mâché crumbling at the edges.
