I’ve come home to molding fruit
cold air it’s because I’m rarely here
not to worry in a week or so
I’ll have a new home
empty rooms I’ll fill
with the remnants again of a life had
for 18 months and now this
the true break for some reason
this place feels like a holding port
the base of God’s hands
not purgatory where I’ve waited
like the poor with ear infections
in the ER waiting room
like me with an ear infection
in an ER waiting room
my name has been called
and the ear drum has already burst
I’ve let the liquid slide down my neck
again ill box up what I want
give away what I don’t.
My name has been called.
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