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Steven Muir
Poems
Sep 2014
Smoke
I.
It looks like
fog
from my window
II.
The hum of my
air purifier
blots everything out
sound wise
III.
And outside
everything is covered in
the gray
haze.
IV.
When I leave my room
my lungs -
already weak and
malfunctioning, on the best of days -
choke,
cough,
and reject what I put in them.
V.
I hope
the fires
clear up.
Written by
Steven Muir
20/Transgender Male/Santa Clarita, California
(20/Transgender Male/Santa Clarita, California)
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