A contemporary poem about what survives the burning, using a concrete image system, a pressured turn and a restrained open ending.
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What survives the burning is not courage. It is the small fact of having chosen. The room smells of paper and rain. I sweep the names into one dark line. No apology rises with the dust. The morning arrives, uninvited and clean.
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A dark poem of bathroom, can't, and foresee, holding fear, fracture and survival in view.
A dark poem of moments, cherished, and now, holding fear, fracture and survival in view.
A dark poem of meridian, passes, and sun, holding fear, fracture and survival in view.
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