Feb 2021
This isn’t just a wildfire, springing up with heat when the right wind catches it.
No, this is an ember, slow and smoldering.
I’m not angry with you, I’m hurt.
I’m not plotting my revenge,
I’m planning my escape.
No, this is an ember, slow and smoldering.
I’m not angry with you, I’m hurt.
I’m not plotting my revenge,
I’m planning my escape.
This poem was written in 2018.
(Oklahoma City)
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