Tonight, it pours as if God has casually scattered sequins
upon the ground
Tonight, I can't count how many times
I have been knitted and tucked away while the world seems to be ignited,
flaming, oh tonight, not now,
Does the wind howl here only for itself, or helm its way
tossing through the chevroned trees? for they never intend
on dying out
Tonight, all I can do is be the child who soaks for hours
after her grandmother has passed
and years after
that stench of hotel water reminds the face of it while you wash at home
home only resembles her more
Tonight, to think of all those people who die in cars
pilgrims on the Brookshire piled into ravines
tonight
this tunnel vision will do no good.
* * *
Carand Burnet is a painting student at the New Hampshire Institute of Art in Manchester, New Hampshire and is originally from South Carolina. This is her first appearance in Elegant Thorn Review.
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