Together we stood in the small cave

Tucked away in the undergrounds of Tzfat,

The trail illuminated only by the flashlights gripped between our fingers.

Shattered glass scattered below our feet,

and

decades of graffiti embroidered the walls;

At the age of five

Mary has built herself a retreat

A box made out of her father’s rusty carving knife

(which was quickly confiscated)

And a soggy line up of cardboard

She found while digging through the trash

The Sun is a greedy emperor, 

Shining its light across the Canyon, 

And evaporating drops of water. 

 

With the land so parched and no color than red, 

As I pass through an unmarked apartment building,

I observe a woman’s relationship with a stray cat.

Obscured by the shadows of happy hour light,

the dirt that has accumulated on the floor’s grout still shines,