She crouches in doorways
Her sooty head nodding left to right
In anxious anticipation of no one
Of nothing
As the smoothing stones sweat ice
Her latest breath a brittle halo
Clinging to her brow
In her utter acceptance eyes bow
To some noble phantom
(in her dreams the trains run
On time and the boxcars
Are filled with friends)
Some companion to this early light.
keith pearson was born and raised in new hampshire and works at a local high school in the math department.
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