air enmeshed on my face
gases greases spices biohazard turbulence
steps i do take deftly
for fear of stepping on someone’s pride or fingers
heart where do you find me
not close by tonight i’m sorry
lungs pained by the dull recycled wind
legs tired from walking on my knees
hands exhausted from typing and knocking on borrowed doors
that were sealed shut years ago
Langers you’ve outdone yourself
pastrami parfum greets me in the mouth
but pauper pockets must decline
not enough to eat on any night
moon follows explaining what went wrong
i’ve stopped listening 20 years back
the coat that was my father’s
has fell apart in the warm places
it served me well as now i’m frozen
in all the right places
only the ghosts living in the bricks
get through to where my thoughts
reveal
the truth about letting go