by Greg Santos
after Borges, “Benares”
She peers out her attic shutters.
Light scales the walls, blazing the city.
She beholds the charred suburbs from her sill.
Her eyes twitch, bloodshot, overexposed.
The wail of a coyote – is it a coyote? –
dampens the air.
The city shudders in the haze.
— from Juniper Volume 5, Issue 1