Ellipsis

"... for the nature of poetry is not in the grammar, but in the gut." Andrei Voznesensky

I read them and don’t understand

the lines, but

still they are so beautiful, still

beauty, roses

melting in the sun of fifty thousand lightbulbs

with no purpose

but to just keep switching off and on.

I swim in thinning ink

that

stains my glasses black

and seeps inside the phone lines and friendship bracelets

that cradle my wrists until

they melt of ephemeral heaviness.

I am oozing from

my seams just like a rotten-

ripe tomato

on the street.