On Winning #poem #short prose #literature — Short Prose

Liliya Kulianionak; Shutterstock The afternoon smelled of brick wall; the wall I used to scratch with the knees and the nails on my way to the sea. My blood stained my socks and fed the roots of the orange tree mama planted one spring before my seventh birthday.  Soon after the tree grew blood oranges.…

On Winning #poem #short prose #literature — Short Prose

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