Bronzed breast bone.        Rattle rattle.
Even the air tastes like metal.
Mercury glass.        The backs of spoons.      Poor Brooklyn.
I-beams sway to comfort me.
All of Poland has turned out to hold my hands.
Gently weeping wolves.        The tender hare.
I am disloyal to my own tears.
Thank you for breaking up with me
in the park.        Now I get to hate
trees.        Each dead leaf has a special
meaning: Death.        Sleeping is a long slow fight.
Night makes breath sad clouds.
Dark breaks around every sound.
Each time the phone rings I remember who I am.
I'm Lauren Ireland.        I thought I told you to shut up.