Tuesday, May 11, 2010

St. Richard Reynolds

this city is a phantom limb. your hands

reach out for each other from the ends

of the train lines. the streets are your

throbbing veins. I feel your presence

everywhere. ribs envelop. surround.

I keep my head down. I can’t bear

to see your heart strung up in that tree.

It swings defiantly in the wind.

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