Red rust shows up blood in rain.

Oh, says graffiti on the railway bridge, cry.

It wasn’t the fridge that blinked.

It was indifference. High ceilings make

for cold rooms. Forgive me. I am a non-prophet.

Have you not said what you have to say?

We don’t always act like who we are.

I’m lost. Your job is to find me.

Even language is not its own size.