Run
She drops a match onto
the pile and then another
when it doesn’t catch.
Brown leaves and dry sticks
from the sycamores
all rearranging themselves
to better grab the light.
She drops a match onto
the pile and then another
when it doesn’t catch.
Brown leaves and dry sticks
from the sycamores
all rearranging themselves
to better grab the light.
Two friends walk through the heat
out to the drug store
as just a way to say they went somewhere,
and carry home plastic bags
pale as flaking bone.
Feedback in the speakers
and I cannot chill out
for anything.
The whole crowd of kids
push an old man around
and scream about
how nobody belongs here
anymore.
Blurred out pictures
of house fires
occupy the plastic frames
in the greeting card shop,
where pins are pushed deep
into cork boards
hanging on walls
with no windows.
Three rabbits practice running
from nothing at golden hour
between warehouses and train tracks
barely listening.
I saw a woman drawn
with negative space
on the red bathroom stall
scraped into the metal
with black pen.
We cannot see the airplanes,
but we hear them
behind the gray sky
getting as far away
as fast as they
possibly can.