Poem

Standard

What just came blundering
through the door
was a fiery uncertainty.

May as well take
the remainder of the habitat.
Out of habit, or out of general ennui,

we let the flames keep at it.
It’s just our way
of handling situations.

I’ve these apprehensions,
random samplings
of a tension toiling

underneath my skin.
But they come and go
like holidays…

-r. miller

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