It’s snowing, our reflections stained,
captured in clean puddles.
We come down tonight
like dead clerics
who circled Vishnu’s navel
and city lights to skip time.
Strangers are left to their small affairs.
A Eurydice Nocturne, the new LA Woman,
she’s split-lipped blues singing
from old 'go to hell's'.
She is a conspiracy of angels.
It rattles my teeth.
This sticky fission swallows
the length of us.
So alive, compressed in a box
she becomes my tendons,
my flight of bar fights,
the midnight, the early morning
hard sex and hangover.
Dappled palms held out, bitten,
we hear the coming mob.
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Submission Name: We Heave Up Like the Night 
