Photo by Srinivas Reddy on Unsplash

Poetry

Quarantine

Self

Relationships

Poetry On Medium

In Strides

The upstairs neighbor walks hard
on his heels at 1:56 in the morning —
perhaps there’s some club-footed ogre
above him, an infinite stomping regress
all the way up to God, thundering about
in a mood so that no one else can rest, either.