“From the Ninth Floor” by Lex Bobrow
After I Could Not Imagine by Anton Marrast
we twist out of the window
, glass in DNAspiral about us
we are
drowning in air we are
free
? the glass furrowed our skin
on its way to plague the ground
but your naked body
sings the blood well
(in ribbons
) neatly twisting from your jaw
to the pinkyou
where we will meet
to the pinkyou
I reach for
our redlife
rains
on the people (
descended from serfs, they
, thinking us royalty, will shout
their throats
silent
for us to come down—
but we will not
we are not fountains
)
my index finger reaches the pinkyou
and midflight,
you stop
to smile with
both sets of lips
(there are bits of glass in your hair, lady,
there are bits of glass
in your hair)
as I press my
ashes-to-ashes
to your
dust-to-dust
Lex Bobrow is a writer fresh out of school living in south Florida. As a result, he writes a lot about hurricanes and citrus fruit, which makes him laugh at how Floridian he is. More than anything–at his core–he wants to be captivating and therefore powerful.
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