Three days I lay with a fire under my skin, in the guest room,
in the twin bed by the window.
The preacher in waist-high water, his Bible, the walnut frame,
the footboard, everything
shimmied in heat, the lights mostly down,
the brightest thing in the room
the banjo cracking in the speakers of the stereo.
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By Ben Howard
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I pushed back the branch and it fell like a bracelet across my arm— a scarlet king or a coral, but panic like beauty stunned me, and I couldn't remember […]
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