Yard Sale of Thoughts

I sleep like a murder victim lined in chalk,
air strikes in my dreams,
and the birds outside my window,
gossip when they squawk.

Their talk muffled 
by the flash of screams,
strangers trapped below rumblings.

I wear the stripes of the neighboring building:
a prisoner in the city's lingering dark,
I'm a bad landing zone,
all slants and arcs.

I wish to rise, but fear the fallout 
of my nuclear heart.

If I pull the curtains close, will the future be less stark? 

Those supreme beings that make the earth 
quake, the seas that separate us
pull back their part. 

No, I still maintain,
fire will survive the rain,
and all that divides can be washed away
again
with superlove—

the endless sunshine of an open mind;
the vibrant bouquet of an open heart.

© 2026 | K.F. Hartless

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Cover Art: “World on Fire’ by Lindsey Cherek