A man builds a fire in the dark,
warming his hands over crackling trash.
He needs a shave.
A woman approaches the barrel,
keeping her distance.
She does not look up.
His eyes flicker like glass stained
the color of blood and soil and lit from within.
“Are you hungry?” he says to the woman
who is full of nothing.
He hands her his bread and waits
as though he holds all of time
and space in this firelight.
He waits and does not expect.
And she eats, aches.
And she is home.
- Courtney Thrash