Night in Manhattan

A reed bows and dies, walls sway
people bend and life falls
upon them, mute feathers fly away

Walls are linen, hairlike
rising from skulls on gluey reliefs
and break up in the gleam of neon lights

Man has nested in the canyon of garbage bags
built his peace among rodents
and bitten poison from black plastic

A dusty cage yells: help me or tuck off
help me or I kill, and barely rises, floating
inside the bag, a glowing fragile ball

Eyes burn a hole in the molten ash
the reed bows and inside the bag
blows the wind, void, sleep's broken breath.

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