very small pink clump   few things are sadder than the sight of a thin gold anklet trapped beneath a suntan-colored nylon. the people in the morning clutch their warm cups. they have water bottles and sensible shoes, earbuds, catalogs, and weary faces. the world pulses with violence. a garbage car slithers into a frightening maw, a particularly mysterious and frightening vagina embroidered on … Continue reading Two Poems by Nada Gordon