Doro Boehme

Poetry by Doro Boehme

Teaching Water How to Drown

It was Spring but that gave her a feeling of Christmas, this rush of people with bags and parcels all a gift to her and she felt so in control of the direction her life was taking moment by moment as she crisscrossed the city underneath in such a crowd, stood close to the doors so she could always read the blue-tiled station names, unfamiliar and all seductive. Then a hand moved up her thigh.

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