4th in National Poetry Month Contest (Sponsor: Crystol Woods)
Judged: April 14th, 2025
baby ghost wrinkles the river I gaze at its drowsiness as I masticate on the meanings of why because inside me is misaligned and its cold, sleepy eye - cautionless - shall twitch like visible white noise when TV boxes snap neither shoals nor skipping stones breaches the facade of a conspiratory sea river rattles 'cause it's my baby's ghost: The Deer Hunter picked her blossom tending his garden of wicked passion for crooked lotuses laying dead afloat
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