there is sweat from glass jars
and it isn't even hot outside
but the faces are burning
red, orange, some sort of magenta.
like a vision,
I see their faces floating
merging together like angels.
I wiped the sweat from the table top
and wrote a letter,
turned on the fan,
and imagined myself among them,
a little bit angry,
thrown in with all those sinners.
1 comment:
nice.
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