Is it wrong
the way she remembers a dead man’s thumb how his hands pressed flour for a living, the knead to rise, the spread how oven he was, that scent his thighs, hard as day-old bread, she the butter count the crumbs before the tongue is done.
the way she remembers a dead man’s thumb how his hands pressed flour for a living, the knead to rise, the spread how oven he was, that scent his thighs, hard as day-old bread, she the butter count the crumbs before the tongue is done.