Exits

when bones feel like iron rods the body wears out. fatigued, like an evening pipe billowing gray smoke perfuming the tender sky. tearing up from the acrid smoke my eyes look into one far corner there in that moment father, your sobering entrance awakes my hope hugs of thunder and heartbeats that carry into a rumble but sizzle quickly to the scurrying speed of your guaranteed exit. father, I'm here in my paralysis I wear the cast of time healing the bone unable to move my burdened limbs