| Neon Sometimes light from the streetlamps leak through the veins of thin glass casings slicing into leafy branches spread-eagled on air. Its flicker-whispers are heavy on my bones as they sidle into an ear, through a cracked fingernail, a hairtip. Warmth is static on skin forgetting shiver, pulse failing quickness, eyes left open with body surging to light’s breathing, and the corner-sound of glass breaking. |