‘i think stars taste like tinfoil’, Hannah Bean

i think stars taste like tinfoil i think stars taste like tinfoil. hearts are always wine- dark, tempered, stomach-stirred, ripe like my mother’s berries, our saved summers. but stars are crisp, sharp-edged, burnt hollow, stamped static. they taste warm until the blood stops tasting sweet and starts tasting like metal again. and a few times a year i wrap myself up and i werewolf myself … Continue reading ‘i think stars taste like tinfoil’, Hannah Bean