PALM READING
ragged old underworld
of dumpster diving and picking up
pennies, flattened
flung into the bushes
beside the railroad track
soft lips into which I cry
though cold hands continue to pull at
a button or two
jacket already spilt
its carcass to the side
there is no remedy
to seeing the starless sky
trodden in a puddle of steriliser
and spit and serums
half awake, half aware
half-low, half-high