every city only the edge of god

outside churches with slush
or in tights & the sunshine—
boston, chicago

new york, montreal
paris, and dublin.
i like them dirty & hopeful,

near liquor stores
& goodwills—
they are

pulled up hair
and some irreplaceable 
childhood longing, 

an undeveloped muscle memory.
all the lit candles,
every prayer not for god

but for the city herself,
with her
edges and echoes 

fluorescent palpitations 
and bleeding sidewalk cracks,
24 hr cvs more sacred than scripture

starless sky genesis
puddled sewer holy water
T ride pilgrimage

drunk profanity a hymn—
if only someone 
were listening