fleishman is in trouble

Red hot pokers,
Self-righteous spitfires,
Steaming wounded vindication,
Pull chord to stop stop

Alighting from bus to the dark,
From victim to partner
From judge to redeemed
From snarl to knot

From flight or fight to walk together—
Snow falls, light flakes,
Covering scarlet sins of rage
That melt and do not stick
To the warmed concrete, slick with our feet’s heat
Snow falls—if you blinked you would have missed their flakes—light as grace
Call me crazy,
But it was.

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