Susan Burch

Walk of Shame

Coming home late, I see an Amish woman walking towards the field in the dark.

complimentary moon

She’s tightening her bonnet, while I stumble forward, watching her instead of the road.

a pretty night

Finally home, I sink into my tub, and ponder what she would think of me. The other woman, supposedly modern, with no cows to milk, no butter to churn, and Venus in her hand.

to die

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About the Author

Susan Burch is a good egg.

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