Crosstown
Bell-crack cold a month now with no sign of snow.
Bushy squirrels mating in spider branches bare
as nails. Corpses arrive in crystal dawns:
slumped in a bus shelter, stretched out in a
truck, curled
beneath charred junk in a vacant house set
blazing.
Crosstown digging continues. Hardhats yellow and
blue,
orange vests chirp a crayoned spring. Chipped
manhole
covers glint beside access shafts steaming black.
