Scalding water beats on my back, pelts of lava rolling down my body. I moan as all my muscles finally relax from the day. The timer I set for my hair ...
I first drank blood when I
was six years old,
it was Jesus’ in a
goblet and I held it to my
lips like that was my baptism,
sacred and holy and
...
I stare at the clock as my mind swings between erratic and still, uneasy yet excited. I figure enough time has passed by now, it’s too late to come ...
Lindsay Lewan • Oct 5, 2017 at 3:44 pm
Thank you to the Pinnacle for sharing this reading, from a most talented writer!
Jamey Trotter • Oct 5, 2017 at 1:41 pm
Great poem, Olivas! Especially for the limited amount of time you had to put that together.
The Cafe Cultura event was a really cool workshop–thanks, Writers Studio!