Guts and Crosswalk

Written by: Andrew Gallagher


       the curb 
              and tide beside the curb 
                                  of soggy buds 
and moist minds 
             spilled loose with thrust- 

my innards {PRESSURIZE}
to rise me up, up, or down, down -

            but I am no fish.

the boots I kick are
chilled still and mostly water. 

                  i peck the curb -
                  call out,
                  claw -

        caw gray thoughts
of snowglobes.

i ask you please
that you scratch 
at the base of my shoulderblade,

- that you scrape deep!
 so ice showers slough off me

       ancient skin.