Club bright, come blush & blurred. Bluish backdrops of noise.

Throb me into scene. His clink, their collect & clamber.

For hours men face nothing but the north: glitter,
hipped raw—unbuckle me.

A chiasmus of hands makes wanting seem, somehow, ever.

Writhing wet & weatherless, we watched
our tongues unslang. Your robe lashed our mirror

to the floor. It’s a terrible love & we’re walking
into its terrible, eight-legged light.

Yes. The word world lent itself to rending, once.

Skyscrapers zip into lines, break into song.

Reckon the future, hinged & prisonless, does shine.

Last night the police pulled a body from the river.

It wasn’t yours. Reckon otherwise.

Car horns. A curtain of denim, dust.

Even this was not built for us to see it last.