Shapes

Where the dogs come in
and the heat retracts
and all those people
run around and interact.
There’s a quiet and
still beyond the cold, wet
sill, and it breaks my
heart it’s not raining.
Fair and false, this
gloom, that fills, tight,
this room. When I’m
quiet I can hear the
shapes flying somewhere
without me.

One thought on “Shapes

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