Incident
Anywhere. Evening rain.
Snakes cross the road,
that is no longer an obvious place.
It cracks like old toffee.
Lost souls in nightgowns and slippers
foam behind wire.
A dark tide bids,
then waits for the gallery of slight heads,
a row of serious blue eyes,
devoid of doubt.
A world of small signs.
Copyright © Leslie Philibert | Year Posted 2016
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