Image: KEVIN CARDEN / LIGHTSTOCK.COM
A fire engulfs it, but the bush does not burn. How?
Curiosity, from this pharoa’s son-turned-murder, shepherding fugative. I draw closer.
A presence from the fire, none I’ve known, yet all I’ve ever known, calls my name.
sandals and sheep
for dverse Poets Pub quadrille #51–burning, hosted by Victoria