Breadcrumb #450

MATTHEW ROWE

While you waited
for the sliver of panic

to peel itself free
from the smoking radiator,

I dove headfirst
and waded to the dock.

The biting tinfoil tinge
vibrating in my gums.

My chicken skin plucking
at your boiling heart strings

in minute reverberations.
While you counted miscues,

I caught the train moving
in the opposite direction.

I licked a 9-volt battery,
poked my bruises,

cracked the ice tray
into smithereens.

One at a time,
I blessed the bumps,

as the Uptown 4 jerked
forward in a fearless plunder.

I kissed the beads of sweat
careening down your forehead,

the sky splitting
with each pucker.

The slivers of nightmares
tenderizing into a raw nothingness.

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