Huron St., North Entrance
by Elizabeth Hildreth
In and out of God, I relapse into urgency.
All misery, glitter, burning wire,
if I knew something,
I knew a clock could kill me.
Moving under trees is a smile is a slum.
Sharp grey beside, blue cuts above:
the color things become in disaster.
I've chewed holes in my bed
searching for strange returns.
Maybe I'm driving twilight,
hiding a lamp between limbs,
Saburoh Kuroda on a bicycle.
I count my parts by double.
At the top of the map,
the same girl winks at a rail train.
It's ice falling by EMERGENCY.