John Sibley Williams Hell

The company I keep here
as exquisite as a treeful of children

so many unapologetic songs
of violence and frailty
each ripe with I
and its various disconnects

so many narratives
as a listener
I'm in heaven

With never a silence between stories
I plant my tongue in the dirt for later
and let it blossom and stretch toward the sun
between my hands

We all hold our suns close
as the only light remaining inside

They flare through the worlds we left behind
in the subtlest infernos

Somewhere else someone is burning in us

Or so we hope

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