At Risk
Asterisk this, asterisk that. My deepest thoughts slunk through my head, afraid. Locust trees shed petals across the street. They lay strewn like human teeth over the raging yellow of the tensile yellow line. I awoke like a lit M80: all fear, bottomless orbits. While I slept, helicopters ferried me through peerless darkness, a harness hugging my pubis, a set of smiles for my squinting eyes; high strangeness for miles and miles. They’d call me snub-nosed bat, they’d bend my wings, they’d touch me and strike out my mind with a walnut opener. Sterling silver, an antenna calls my brain blood around it, a cerebral lighthouse, an obelisk, a sun- dial towing an onerous line.