crash of sleep
20 February 2009
Vol. 8, No. 4
poetry, prose poem
it is 7:30 am on the 4 train to the bronx we are heading fast uptown doors swinging rough out from their sockets rush of burnside fordham road kingsbridge terrace old armory dirt and trash mark the concrete below me rip of train i sit next to a woman with the number nine on her chest sprawling her breasts stretched her baby sleeps below sound