feels like home

don’t remember much now
says the rocking chair with his
wrinkles down to here
covered in a blanket
riddled with holes


The fabric!
The static!
The electricity!
The spark in a dark room!
The viscous loom shuttling!
The sputtering note of petroleum!

burned but survived
preaches the bedpan hollow
out into the halls hallow

no-one listens without anguish
so no-one listens

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