From the Archives: “Grown” by Janelle Adsit
we choose familiar places for goodbye places with trees, twigs hardly fastened, and geese droppings like paste beneath us which we avoid so as not to stay or take the place with us. the bed of water holds the green—only green—so not even our reflections can remind us. Originally published in Winter 2009.
Read More From the Archives: “Grown” by Janelle Adsit