Tag Archives: Sally Quon

Rough Living He’s been “rough living” as they call it. Skin over bones, frost-bitten hands. “How’re the kids?” he asks, like it matters now. “They’ve got me quarantined, top of the shelter. Might have the virus. Might not.” The words blur; rearrange themselves. “You shouldn’t have left. I’m going to die and it’s your fault.”Continue reading “3 poems by Sally Quon”