the sun sinks,
undoes its chain of light
suspended over the city.
there is utter darkness for
a moment only, the slow
grind of day picks up speed,
wheels into night,
& it's all coming back now.
a kind of yellow fever,
it starts at the outer edges
of the city and works its way in,
strobe hearted like
coney island, but it's not as
friendly, it's not as nice.
i can't risk this
whirlwind of electric flames.
i can't risk being this flattened polaroid
behind the glue of your caustic eyes,
with these molars receding
into their mother gums,
my gray tongue slipping out
like a killed fish.
i can't let you document my
bloodlust, my ravenous impulse,
or all the doors i've been to,
or all the doors i've been turned
away from,
and i can't let you know all i'd ever
known is the putrefaction of cabbage,
my own dumb howl at
the sickled blastula
of the moon.