eastry

Ellen Cregan

<p>pockets of air trapped. the icy roof of a lonely trough a glassy captor. they’re shifting. cracks appear like roots. tap softly, and they will grow gaps slowly open up and scream at the cold. above, spectrous smoke fills my nose the smell of the ember is crackling. disturbed the fragments float, upturned adrift in [&hellip;]</p>