In-law
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In-law Tara Bray The cries of the killdeer agitate like demons delicate and ruthless, the bird ten steps ahead in harsh light, the wheat soft and green, thoughtless heads at the mercy of the wind. A pheasant hunkers down in dust, its splendor tucked tight, muted by land squared off and measured. The family is almighty, the yellow day cold. I am outside, tended by wind I hate. What world is this? The sun so strange and everywhere. |
