Arousing Her: Chicago

At night the city is full of bones And they Are very dry Beneath the trample of urban feet They are ground But to live, these dry bones Must drink words Sad nervous me, I stammer Against those arid limbs Grinding bone-dust songs Into scattered fragments spun from raging blades But realizing so many so, I sputter Thought-hacked soul-flakes, soaring Crooked in an angry wind. . . Though stinted, inconsiderable, I say them Spit them down the papered street Into a shadow where the dew will stay And some anonymous day some Stray seed will grow on them And suckle upon a speck of misty bone And though the nights will continue To align the humps of an un-slaked dune Something out of this sand will rise Small, and secretly original And I will be part of her: my bony, blue, and sensual city