Utterrings of Angels things settle down, down
onto the Earth and the hearths of homes.
He walks upon the faults and crackling-children,
fast rubble causing him ill feelings and
he feels the passing nausea of trains
at a young age.
We've crossed jurisdictions - from the concrete
onto the sands and glass and grass that litters
the fields.
I hold a hand towards, urging him to remain,
to stand still and hold his hand over his mouth.
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