NYC
Stretched thin like a thread through an eyelet, I weave my way through harrowing lines.
So close to finding an escape route,
Rubber to ground, don’t turn around til you can’t hear a sound.
This city speaks in tongues and teargas, I burn my ears just to choke on the noise.
Years lost to virtue and schedules
…. and glimmers of rapture.
Heartbreak in a dusty crawlway, I inch my toes against the platform’s edge.
There’s a hum from an electric casket,
Distant but near, hold my breath here, saved by the grip of a samaritan’s fear.
Hollowed out like a decorative vessel, I hear the echo in my vibrating ribs.
So far from dredging my way out,
…. yet reprieved of capture.
These windows reflect enchanting relics, I stop and listen to the murmuring air.
Winds change with the turn of a cross street,
Heave my head high, step back in line, invert my lips so that everything’s fine.
