Thursday, January 18, 2018

no where to run

it smells like
rain.
feels like snow.
taste
like burned ashes.
something's in the air.
there's a fire
burning
to keep someone warm,
or did it start
while we were sleeping.
shovels lean
against the wall.
salt and sand.
the bags stacked and ready.
batteries.
water. dried food.
a pistol or two.
the news on, waiting for
word
to tell us which direction
we should run.

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