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.