day of trumpets sounding

12 Nov

the bruised clouds closed the swimming pool,
turned it into a skateboard half pipe,
put feathers on people’s backs.
this darkening dome we hover under.
but wait,
i see a bike with saddle bag worlds turtling onward.
we may escape after all.
why do i notice a police car stuck at a red light and its caged windows?
achhhh, it’s time to bunker down,
burn candles,
sort baseball cards,
journey within.

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