Beth Houston Dad 1 see him only as the darkness taking a long drag on the end of another summer day, the glow of a cigarette among other cigarettes at the end of the driveway, among the slow red...
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Beth Houston Lullaby When the smoldering moon is tossing and turning in violent clouds, you wake on panting bedsprings in a sweat, cold to the bone, a voice conjuring the ghost not of something...
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Beth Houston The News Newspapers stack up outside the back door. pressed into one another by the weight of days piled on top, by the changing elements. The ink of advertisements bleeds into the...
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