I swept the tomb
God does not exist in you nor I
but in the space between us
on this narrow platform a body
is so heavy, tinseled remnants
hang desire, the centrifugal
thrust blows an industrial kiss
C trains mechanically blink by
pushing faith in blue, imbuing
the hushed lilt of this memory
in black leather trenches
see the image of yearn annihilated
in canthal reds, advertised cures
for prosaic whatevers, an expressionless
insistence on destroying my will
rubber seesaws concrete
hypnotic beneath subway tracks,
everything rests with clear eyes
waits for me even