over the riots
and the well lit homes
the writers who write
the wordless poets’ breaths stolen
a dust cloud
meets horizon
entreats street
and there
g-d conjures
does linger
and between lightness and heaviness
a rainbow passes ‘bove the breach
it is getting harder to breathe
because baby Other World is arriving
the bleak scenery is the center of the womb
we are almost there
keep pushing
pushing baby
stick around past your own neck
you might get to go
Home
