by: Alex Lemon

Alive in the ghost
Park, I am this
Darkness. The horizon
Is a boil of halved
Strawberries shining
& illness stitches me
To the glittery
Dirt. My hands are
Broken. They are
Electric with the raw
& bleeding organs
Of beloved pets.
This world is cruel
To all things but its
Grace is unimaginable.
The unraveling light
Writes messages as
Shadows stretch
From sugar shack
To whisper-winded
Playground. Are you
Almost finished licking
My wounds clean?
In the empty
Swimming pool,
One flip-flop,
A disposable
Razor. A rider-less
Skateboard hums
Back & forth. Spider-
Cracked concrete.
Spider-cracked skin.
Last night, I could
Have sworn
That cherry-red
Coronas bloomed
In the sky. I ate
Without knowing
What crunched, what
Metallic sweetness
Burst & filled
My mouth. This
Morning when
I opened my lips
To murmur I love
You to the yolky
Daylight, horse
Flies buzzed out
Of my throat.
Tell me, trumpet
It through the city’s
Steel & cinderblock
Valleys, please,
Let me feel it—
What broken
Animals, what
Beasts make it
To the other side?