Wednesday, December 17

and sees something
that makes his hands clench
with cold anxiety.
Wordless, he plucks me by the sleeve
and tries to lead me away.
I laugh and protest,
enjoying the light,
the smell of the bricks and the dirt.
Then I look up and see it too:
the crumbling tower,
the containment netting
bunched like stockings
on an anklebone.
Yes, time to leave.

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