Small stone, Vol. 2, #22

Cold like a bullet, it rolls between my tongue and the roof of my mouth, that tiny jagged crown where the stem once was pressing a rough circle into my palate. It is so ripely firm it will not burst until I break it with my teeth. Then, oh!┬áthe tang and natural sugars, that succulentContinue reading “Small stone, Vol. 2, #22”