by K.S.
i see it from my bed/ long-snake-moan of a whore in exile/ cold light of small hours behind/ a wall of letters beating as moths/ and men/ do/ before sunlight smashes its curled toes into/ alarm clocks/ not many know this but/ windowpanes and/ expatriates contain miles of silences/ each morning i put on sadness like a sweater/ and try to write it all down/ now i am weeping/ never mind/ how to post/
K.S. (they/them) is an aspiring writer from South Asia. They primarily write poetry and have had work published with The Daily Drunk, The Sparrow’s Trombone, and Koening. Additionally, they have more work forthcoming with Warning Lines, Sledgehammer, Gutslut Press, and Inksounds.