a bush on fire in the parking lot – I walk past

a man at the door who won’t let me in

my face plastered against the glass

screaming about how I’ve been missed out

strangers shut their curtains and shake their heads

to my shame, to my shame

in the morning frozen hands clutch frozen knees

behind one curtain a whisper, behind another

a piercing scream

did you hear the angels? They cry

did you hear? Did you hear?

But no sound penetrates these frozen ears

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Back to BoundBy: November '23 (Edition #6)