Where I Came From
The old neighborhood is burning down, the lawns awash
———in oranges and reds.
I have come running
back to save our house. My mother is lounging in
———-the kitchen, filing her nails.
“Relax,” she tells me,
“The fire chief called, says this is the new normal.” I cannot
———-believe she is not hysterical.
I shake her,
Read rest of poem at Agni