I am, a black satin ribbon
twisted
into a smile on
the cold cement
A whisper at midnight,
between
cupped hands and
flashlit lovers
Like the moment
I realised a spiders fang
could commence a cut
of the national grid
with my spine at its core
And with the lights
out in the shadow of night,
comes the dislocation
of middle america
Light and shadow,
harsh lines, carved
in wet sand
deep as canyons
