The Strange Situation Procedure by Howie Good

Armed men

who escaped

from an old childhood dream

tell me to stop

and turn around,

 

my eyes

scanning the shelves

for a name

that isn’t there,

 

the light

getting frailer

all the time,

darker and frailer,

 

a place

just up the stairs

but somehow

suddenly

hard to find,

 

the branches

beaded

with buds.

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