Issue 22

Andrea Abi-Karam

PART I

ribs pop off/out

fast

NOT like prison

bars raising more like

that fast flash of

blue light when a

fuse blew @ LGA

sky wide for a second

what i thought staring

@ a bomb looks like

as it engages w/ the air

around it

tripwire between the

teeth of a teenager

eyes gold discs

reflect ersatz excess

the shine you have

before the next

dangerous act—

there are so many

i stopped

keeping count

while back

PART II

how when sitting on the ferry

dock—late summer—sun set

on a bench w/ the edges of the sky

beginning to fold in on itself

i just wanted to talk to you + reenter the

skin peeled back revealing our kneecaps

crave for the hyper present-present

it’s 66 on a new york city sunday in january

illicit comfort, a little bold,

a little guilty

leather shorts that share faded-pale legs

a fast breath in the depth of winter

last feb cecilia vicuña said it

hasn’t really snowed since the 80s

i mean

really snowed

& i worried for the birds + insects

held up by translucent wings

steamrolled geodes

whose homes shift + bodies operate

in cued cycles “i’m only happy when

it rains” cued up on the track @ minute 2

of something else easier to dance to let

the pop wash over the crowd & disappear

the distance between shoulder/blades

we won’t solve it tonight

this bass this solvent beat

pumps air beneath

translucent, temporary wings

a little blue, a little purple sheen

& bounces off all of our group glamour

a little silver, a little gold

plastick & chain sticky from

interaction—an attempt to synchronize

in2 one another

as our sweat shares the air

breath escapes from the shadow

of ribs popped out, veiny tears

in translucent wings