The mirror doesn’t wait. It gathers whatever the morning leaves behind— a stripe of sun sliding across its edge, dust lifting like tiny lanterns before drifting back down. A sleeve passes, and the...
So grateful to see my new poem “Quiet Turning” published in Rust & Moth.
Thank you so much, Rust & Moth, for giving this poem a home.
Thank you so much, Rust & Moth, for publishing my new poem “The Smudge.” I’m truly grateful to see it included in the Summer 2026 issue.
rustandmoth.com/work/the-smu...
The mirror doesn’t wait. It gathers whatever the morning leaves behind— a stripe of sun sliding across its edge, dust lifting like tiny lanterns before drifting back down. A sleeve passes, and the gla...
The mirror doesn’t wait. It gathers whatever the morning leaves behind— a stripe of sun sliding across its edge, dust lifting like tiny lanterns before drifting back down. A sleeve passes, and the...
Leaves loosen their grip with the confidence of dancers who know the floor will meet them. They spin down in quiet spirals, each a small, deliberate goodbye brushed in fire. The air sharpens— crisp...
