Photo by Vlad Tchompalov on Unsplash

The First Small Place

Small Places Number 1: a poem

An overturned box

wet hands clap all
around, feel

faraway thunder

ants call
“here, here,” ring me,

round the rosie
their first

hero, then dam the sanctuary!
 — leaks

flood the hoard — dear god,
all dead

trampled, unnoticed
in our escape.