For my seventh iteration of the same poem, I’m trying a single haiku instead of a double.
This Morning
Foggy mirror, wiped.
Razor, brush, toothpaste, loathing.
To the east now. Wait.
For my seventh iteration of the same poem, I’m trying a single haiku instead of a double.
This Morning
Foggy mirror, wiped.
Razor, brush, toothpaste, loathing.
To the east now. Wait.