If You Are Leftist, Build Fire Escapes

So tell me it’s okay
Tell me anything
Or show me there’s a pull

That will lead you there from the dark alone
To benevolence that you’ve never known
Or you knew when you were four and can’t remember

Where a small knife tears out those sloppy seams
And the silence knows what your silence means
And your metaphors, as mixed as you can make them
Are linked like days, together

I still hear trains at night when the wind is right
I remember everything
Lick and thread this string

That will never mend you or tailor more
Than a memory of a kitchen floor
Or the fire door that we kept propping open

And I love this place: the enormous sky
And the faces, hands that I’m haunted by
So why can’t I forgive these buildings
These frameworks labeled home?

Headlights race towards the corner of the dining room
And half illuminate a face before they disappear

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