Mar 142012

by Eric Zipper


Feel the fumes of city living

the train-rattle vibration of

loneliness in a mob


the trapped-in-a-box panic

of broken refrigerators

and unswept floors


the stifling desperate stench

of years of hate and garbage

recycled but not reused


the heel-scrape sound of boots on wood

as life happens above and below

in ice cube trays


that rare and perfect moment

when our breath syncs up

and the dirt beneath our feet


exhales at last