take the trash flying upwards
like gutter birds touching
such beautiful places
rubbed and rubbing raw

across nubile foreheads
making them
look foreign under city sun

sewers glowing softly
with secrets of sound
of days sifting

and machinery eating
these unimportant
fossils.

Carefully carving up
my identity
until street and strength
and eyes big enough
and kind enough
to swallow sadness
digested and birthing
the sweetest molasses

pour out