Laura Wang

These days, though I stuff her manger      with the softest thistles, fill her trough...

I was hungry, and he thrashed like a hurt turtle, paddling nowhere on his sprawling, knobby joints....

And won’t you slow your pace, and let us look at least upon your shadow as you move? Your darkened form walks all too swiftly through...

He’d seen it all. Swathes of nothingness spun into stars, the slapping of the first fin onto land, and now these creatures, by far the cleverest...