the city

and the whimsical ghosts worming homes

into tar and crisscrossing steel wires; jousts

of fanfare and tongue-in-the-cheek tradition

perching in the citizen's stomachs(?)

kidney stones(?)

my fair lady of the night, phantom trysts do

not suffice; grand canyons in vacant skulls

and how the whispers of an old lover lacerate

doldrums that stroke frail apartments. beer

bellies, beer bellies, beer bellies, are adamant

and true. shove this blasphemy down your

throat.

this city—

has butterflies pinned to peeling walls

has notarized glass slippers

has tongues licking brains

has wordless mouths

has nothing.

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