Bridget Fertal, C’19
the roses are still there. little white berries and ivy over the door. deep shutters and orange stoop. muddy hill and onion rows. compost bin. little feet that scratch the mud. in the rain, clay runs free. so many little bowls shaped by little hands. for herbs, for onion grass. for rosaries and berries. for soup and incense. shelves of muddy bowls for everything. porcelain for a sacrifice. like water, melt away.