journal of the pogrom years
the pogroms came in the fall.
noone knew who.
noone knew who would make it through the cold winter.
people lost. there one second. and then gone.
but we sit.
huddled in the dark around the phosphors for warmth.
showering our mottled skin in the cleanest thing left.
-jim
noone knew who.
noone knew who would make it through the cold winter.
people lost. there one second. and then gone.
but we sit.
huddled in the dark around the phosphors for warmth.
showering our mottled skin in the cleanest thing left.
-jim