Love, leftover in the
refrigerator night: 4 A.M —
The machines still
in my bones.

Old dirty lace – snapped!
Steel-yard rain,
hot-coiled smoke,
smell of septic
talk, talk, talk
to stay awake.

My hands burning
for something soft,
something sweet,
to soothe me;
Pale skin, with
her hair burnt
like almonds.

Hiding from heartache under morning rooftop rain!
Afraid of love under sunset-orange moon!
The heat of our bodies trembling in the dark!
Smokestacks tearing the sky!

– Alex Dako