Skeletons
peek round corners
More eyes than face
They nest on crocheted blankets
More old people’s home
Than-
But how old are you anyway?
You could be 16 or 60 – your face lies,
Like your body.
Sparrows in ill-fitting clothes
Hang from wires,
Not feeding
But being fed.
To name this place Phoenix
seems cruel
All I see are ashes.
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