where

This place I recall,
where I stacked chairs
against the wall, placed in rows
like a caravan,
readied as a train to resign.

Something empty,
forgotten in a room
with silver clouds and wooden tomes
describing Vesuvius and its ashes
falling.

That which buries me
only spalls, and I – willing for lightning
to strike –
don’t forget that
beneath the cumulonimbus,
one part rains,
another part shades.

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4 thoughts on “where

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