The sun always sounding close in your ear
such small consolations as appear in error
or misaddressed to a you no longer a you
you can recollect.
Still, wonder is fresh and often abrupt
as terror—the poison of open places
your open heart.
The nagging of old injury wearing
like outrage considered from afar.
You cannot remember their names
staring at their scuffed shoes unexpected
such disdain, such casual cruelty.
There was not an hour without it
or the echo of the way it frayed and
stumped deciphering, how you were suddenly
not one of them, how they made you
a refugee no matter where you were.