Matadora Did you think I would run? I can admire your strength without feeling weak. You are only hide and bone, after all. A frame to embroider with symbols and emblems, a small death to conquer again. Shall I garland your neck with blood roses? Come, kneel at my feet, fetish. You are vessel, you …
Joanna Preston: Tasmanaut Poet
A Dark Feathered Art 