The sun rises early in Chicago
Later in Cleveland
And these big houses carry a big absence of sound
Sipping boxed wine near a window I’m afraid to look out of
I wonder if I’ll ever sit still again
Or if every morning
From here on
Kissed awake by the morning haze
The red sun will tell me, again
To run
Past the airplane parts on the side of the freeway
Past the crooked silos
Past the middle-of-nowhere gaze
At the girl who set herself on fire
See her burn
Next exit, then left
There’s a man named Wisdom
Who lives in every city
And sits at every bar
Waiting for the smoke to roll in
With a rattle in his breath
He looks up when I enter
He recites my full name
He remembers me always
No matter the color of my hair
I know by now what it means to leave
I’d love to know what it’s like to stay
To pour my heart into a tiny glass bottle
To cork it
To tie around its neck
A little blue string
To hang it somewhere
In a room that’s mine
Where the light dances on the glass
To say it’s good luck
To believe it’s good luck
To know it’s never guaranteed
But to believe
While the Midwest burns
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Lizzy Burnam 🐞 
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