collection incoming 2026

   I see you. 

Your ravenous anger. The tectonic sobs that wrack your body, long legs slathered in slick slipknots, no. They cinched a bowline. I bow my head and nod. Strange beasts dwell here beneath the surface. Secrets slither by. 

I smell salt on the wind, the sea, your breath, lungs. I hear drowning happening in the well. See, sponges. Tides turning. A circle. That great gaping maw of motherhood swallowing you whole in the nights.

Your child starts to cry. It echoes in you, a cavernous wound walking 

walking the halls and rocking, rocking, rocking.

The only light is that of the moon; 

she is showing you the way.