Calling Home
my father prays on a fraying mat
my father prays on a fraying mat
The bonfire will be built in the encampments so it may burn the unhoused.
Because you can name something, does that make it good?
And is God not a manacle
They teach you to you that revolutions are swift or that they never are.
A blue door, illuminated by our carbonated haze
And is God not a manacle
Outside the city unravels—billboards, half-built flyovers, and a guava-seller.
Prison smells different when you laugh
tragedy strikes the exhausted soul who stops to rest