Adele Evershed
On The Brooklyn Bridge

She
stands
rotting
inside out
a bloodstone blossom
backlit by the city's brashness
in flushed disbelief she hovers
a delicate thing
unnourished
maybe
she
jumps

 

I
sit
watching
in the cab
time is elastic
going down feels like climbing up
as sirens call regular hymns
airing my madness
binding me
ever
to
her