local_library Metro-North

by Bridget Cross

Published in Issue No. 5 ~ October, 1996

We think about it while fluid from our heads is sipped
in upward motions. She is a coward unsheathed,
whose lips ride this way, abandoned. The metaphysics
of her scalp burns her hair clean.

The stations are sliced evenly into her arms, cold
(like the summer was wet). And in the city,
the snow shuts us down.

For the record, the lights from her eyes flicker so spastically
that we are blinded in the dark.

There are trains that sneak into us like her
and the tracks that carry them, bury themselves into our wombs, damp.

account_box More About

Bridget Cross is a student at Reed College in Oregon. In her own words: "I originally come from the heavenly land of New York City, the greatest city on earth, home of the greatest basketball team on earth, love loud music, quiet corners, dancing, driving, people, home, greasy food, diet coke, basket ball, cigarettes, five AM, markers, Ireland, windows, Adidas, oil lamps, notebooks, good smiles, long hugs, rain, sounding like a personals ad and most importantly, procrastinating!"