The press of shattered steel, glass, and other shiny modern Detritus fills him with pain unimaginable as his fingers grope For connection under the rubble. He cannot see. His heart flutters Wildly, a bird pecking to be free, a blur of blind panic. Palm dead Ends in a burning rodent. Elbow touches a ragged metal…
Love in A Time of Rubble By G. Louis Heath
