in which I’m all spread out in silver & steel. No more
this being a body business. Now I’m all turbines
metal studs whole chunks a soggy plaster heavy &
wet from the ceiling a some foreclosed foodmart or
boarding school narthex just waiting to get sucked
back down into dust. See my sunbleached wallpaper.
My foggy glass knick-knacks. My knuckles my cock my
hipbones ankles hairy thighs I traded em all in.
Swapped me out for PVC chainlink curtains a mesh torn
& roped together torn & roped together flap flap flap
flapping in the wind. Metal cables wire casings rubber
cables wooden poles connecting the whole
collapsed neighborhood. Concrete coming off its iron
bones. See my rickety wooden swing. My sliding
shingles. Wires & bulbs enough to light the block.
Track enough to take y’out the atmosphere. Do it to
me where chipped paint meets rusted pink fuseboxes.
My cold toes. Radiator ribcage. Rusted little screws
still they moan hiss clang about janglebang free
for the men in heavy boots. Vests the men in vests the
men in heavy boots the men in paintstained denim
elbowdeep in sun. My cinderblock dust in the beam.
If my floorboards creak. If my sconces rot. If my
weathervane rusts through. If St. Anthony torn apart.
His demons with eyes in their asses in their mouths.
If I wear my ruins well. If I wear my ruins well.