That you no longer feel one with your flesh or twinned against the image of the dais alarms me like the smolders of a burned house, ashes drifting across time like snow. That I no longer know where to walk in this field that was mine anymore could crush hearts stonier than the hills that form the graves of the epochs of beasts.
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Connor Stratman is a Dallas-based writer and teaches English at the University of Texas at Arlington. He considers himself an avid dog lover.