Red’s Lament
Verse 4She thinks of friends like sparks behind a glass she means to break
when streets are sure, she aims her steps like nails and hammers home the lines
that last and cure,The bramble loosens like a fist
that learned the cost of standing pure,
a gate suggests itself where night swore only blur,She does not ask the dark for permission or for tours, she writes her right in
footfall weight and lets the forest sign the blur,Red on her shoulders
says forward only forward and she gives the night that slur.