Fordham University, South Bronx, blind drunk in the middle of a field
We had one forty left between us,
sitting in that midnight field
since we could not stand.
We talked shit to the stars
until one fell. It smacked the
grass near my left foot with
a small thud, then began twisting
and squawking like a broken trumpet.
I picked her up (it was always her,
even now when I'm sober), beak
opened and closed, blood foaming
onto my knuckles, eyes bulging like my own.
I turned to the kid next to me, his mouth was open
like a railway tunnel, he said nothing
The star scratched my palms with tiny talons.
She spasmed, squeaked, and was still.
I put her in a pocket of my green army jacket,
and began to sob like a man with nothing left.
I slept in a bush that night, woke with one eye crusted
shut, and a trail of ants leading to the tiny supernova
against my chest.
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