A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
All I remember were their hands holding me down: my mother’s father’s, a young nurse who gripped my left arm, and the doctor, who, before each prick into my skin, assured me it wasn’t a needle, just his finger.
Enter your email address to follow Vox Populi and receive new posts by email.
Join 11,715 other followers
Enter email address.
Blog at WordPress.com.