The perfume of wet pavement rattles the air
enters the nostrils like a bee sting
sings of:
honeysuckle
wet dogs
ripping grass at the park

The trees limp,
under a heavy enamel of rain
the gum-tattooed cement glistens
in its own selenium-toned ooze
organic emulsion of man-made grief.

Oxygen in an urban rainforest travels
the veins like bricks, graffiti, and newspaper boxes

All this apocalypse to post a letter
which will arrive with your name
in large
bled
ink.

— SUSANA MOLINOLO

(Originally published Christmas, 2001.)