if thin rails are aluminum spines that hinge on the spines of the busy
then they walk on the backs of the skyline and wave from the top like a flag
look just how easy the hang of the lips and eyes
i'd want to see me just dangling between those lines
[live forever in the ground!
tollund woman safe and sound!]
i sense in the city we live by
scars that divide up the dirt
and still trapped under bricks in the garden
stilled by the blood and the worms
i live in a powerful building,
tall and white as the sun!
but thin rails keep the ceiling from tilting
when bones of the earth come undone