I have been
in flux — a wild, wild mess
a house fire sparks; alight.
There has been nowhere
for the smoke to escape
but somehow this house
Eyes tired, worn like
covering windows of a
I have been in this smoking house
There is a cold snap in the air outside,
but I still throw the windows open
to the new moon/no moon in the sky.
I count the stars,
name new constellations,
call them “HOPE”
And I leave the windows open at night;
I will repaint my shutters in the daylight.
© Maxine L. Peseke, September 2020