Combing my hair, a sudden snarl in the pink teeth.
How silent, death entering.
But I mean of course only the thought. The thought of death. The thought of Death.
I mean of course only the thought, entering.
The remainder of this article is available only to paid subscribers of The Virginia Quarterly Review. Subscribers have access to over thirty years of the great fiction, poetry, and essays that VQR is renowned for. Subscribe to VQR and start enjoying all the benefits!