Honey-glow morning

(gray dismal abyss).

The torturous wonders of a

new day greet me with apparent

apathy.

Please, embrace who you were.

The wind blows constant in a single direction.

It beats my back, I stand still.

Poor child,

hungry child,

sickle cell.

Duck bullets, the stuff of joy.

The bottles were empty and the

words had gone.