A fire truck pounding like a steam engine through the rain on a narrow city street
No breaths or wavering
But the movement sends shudders and makes gutters
Of water pulsing into rivers following the flashing truck
Like it’s also rushing to aid
Or save
Like the water from a rock when struck
Or a side when speared
In a similar way,
Dark eyelashes splayed against a fair face in white morning light
Show the same complexity
The same unwavering of pursued
goodness like the rushing truck
But in unending softness
For the unnamed broken
For me
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