The City
Ellen Kempner
My body grows, my city shrinks
I feel her hands around my waist
Not like we're dancing
Like she's pushing me away
My shoulders back, my stomach in
I rub my sweat into her skin
It makes her glow but not enough
To keep me in
I ride the buses, take the trains
I squeeze my figure through her veins
I am congestion
I'm the blood clot in her leg
In movie theaters, public parks
In delis, markets, coffee shops
Her organs fold and wave me
Gasping in her streets
