Elizabeth Krieg is a poet in West Hollywood, California, where she lives with her husband and their enormous cat, Ronnie. She holds an M.A. from the University of Massachusetts Amherst and her work has appeared or is forthcoming in elimae and Petrichor Machine.
You say it’s springtime, Darling but I don’t believe you. The houses on that hill have tired eyes and take labored breaths. Our feet would be cold on their bare floors, our voices too loud for so much dust and peeling paint. You say there is an echo, Darling but I hear nothing. There is… Read more »