Prospect

by Mel Cort

 

fourteenth hour fireworks from a boy’s bathroom,

brushing teeth with gunpowder and barium. too far to hear anything but light itself.

him, a hall step separate, helter-skelter futon and eyes under elbow. cherry pit stained spit.

a dog jumps from a neighboring window, crimson and midnight. too far to hear.

fur and toothpaste and pigment on the fire escape, us on the diagonal.