Inertia
A poem
radiator pickets could only stare up the bottoms of our feet as we flinched, feeding fabric to flurry, exchanging relics of deceased lovers, slowly at war with one another. my teeth sunk into her crucifix holding on for dear life as the sheets swirled like Manhattan. after all it was August. outside, arms of tupelo reached for last night’s cocktail left on the ledge while we hung upside down like bats waiting for our petals to dry.