Author: Tiana Clark

Daughter, you make me shudder, make music of my bones, don’t you?  Yes, like castanets. The best blood of my blood, soft blood, boiled  blood of not knowing, bright blood is still in you now, blushing  scarlet cells blossoming in your face, plasma rich as juicy figs, cut  open & gleaming. Muscling that dark abyss,…