with tired arms and legs
through a syrupy sea of antidepressants
where the only land in sight moves farther away.
there, a man raises a flailing arm for help
and someone on the distant shore holds up a sign
that reads "sending love and prayers".
on the nearly barren land behind them
a wildfire with unimaginable teeth devours the tree line
in the distance, the soft music of children's fingers against the bars of a cage.
calendar pages turn and turn
and everything is exactly the same,
except for when it's worse.
we are swimming in our best clothes for picture day.
our whitest shirts to highlight the blooms of blood
that will surely find us all.