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doula, catching newborns in your hands after trudging miles in the snow collecting data of an earth so very old

husband who drove so many roads, tired of Christian books on tape they sell in the truck stops

officer whose pale son is skraeling, but you love him all the same, watching him cough and wheeze while he vapes in the shade

son who sports the sigil of darkness, too lost, too tired, too lazy to find goodness in the blessing of his hands

body in the sand, shot at close range and dumped because he couldn’t pay for his own bad news

father, born late, naked and gnarled because he gave all his shirts away

lady who wears a black vinyl cape, sandals, nothing more, watching us behind her secret door

woman who writes by candlelight, looking for truth and finds reckoning