smells of fire and the sky
is a gray, hazy mist. As the horns
rise in the melody of a song
playing in this otherwise
quiet room, where the
intermittent silence is both
salvation and torture,
I ask God to think of me
in his calmer moments
and, with one more sniff,
understand how the flames
are probably only moments
from here and moving closer
with each exhalation of the wind.
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