Calls

I was drawn and quartered
on the floor
when the sirens kicked in
and we had forgotten the old drill
and tension
of waiting for all clear.

And we were sorry for not listening,
so we made our hearing hard.

And I deserved these desertions —
diversions from the way
it never stops calling the wind.

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About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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