Feversome

Witches moan from the roofs,
Day glow apparitions buckle,

Small rolling rocks dance
At the foot of the bed,

And old visions curdle,
Renacted as worries;

Throwing stones through old factory windows,
A mother’s friend pleading for quiet,
A dead rat in the yard,

An old lover leaving for good
And that punch that I took to keep peace.

Compilations of funerals and wedddings,
White light and tears,

The mouth of a crying toddler,
His teeth falling out into dark,

A wasteground on the edge of town,
Scattered with bricks and lost trollies,

Half destroyed buildings
Corroding as they hope,

Faces in the sky glimmering in sweat,
Loved ones glitching into the foreground,

The wet of their eyes
A new rain.

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