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July 2019 Vol. 15 No. 2

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Bob Lucky

The Alchemy of Grief

Some of the tears he whittles into fine points. Those are good for gouging out his eyes. Others he distills. At night, blind and drunk, he pretends he can’t feel a thing.

new moon
the black hole
of the cauldron


First published in tinywords 18.2, 2018.


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