American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry · Prose Poetry

Charles Simic

She’s pressing me gently with a hot steam iron, or she slips her hand inside me as if I were a sock that needed mending. The thread she uses is like the trickle of my blood, but the needle’s sharpness is all her own. — Charles Simic, from “She’s pressing me …,” The World Doesn’t… Continue reading Charles Simic

Rate this: