i’d like to make something beautiful but i am still filled with all this exhausting rage

outside,
another man
with a gun.

outside,
another man
with a spear.

outside,
another man
with a bomb.
another man
with poison,
with violence,
with hatred.

inside,
no problem.

another man
and another man
and another man and
another.

a tiny wisp
of breath,
gone
before the shouts
even hear their echo.

rattle and rumble and rage
and just absolutely disintegrate
in terror.

another terrified man
with a tiny tight coil
in the center
of his chest.

another terrified tiny man
with a knot
in his head.

another man
and another man and
another man
and another.

inside,
no problem.

inside,
a chest
made of wood.
inside,
aromatic wood
slides open.
inside,
a few soft sweaters
made of wool.
one, the color of
northern sea.
one, the color of
beached bone.
picked clean.

inside,
no problem.

outside,
the molecules are all
stuttering and shuffling.
all juking and bucking.
all buzzing and clicking.

inside,
silence.

inside,
no problem.