Two Prose Poems by Santino Prinzi
Stuck There is nothing I can do. I spot a dead wasp dangling from a spiderâ€™s web. Yellow and black stripes are still vibrant, still alive with colour but empty inside. Slowly it twirls, stuck in its rotation. I am almost reflected in its translucent wings. I try to move on, try to accept our shared hollowness, but I can't.
Fall/Halloween Issue, 2015