Click the arrow on the audio player to hear  Wyn Cooper read this poem. You can also download the recording or subscribe to Slate's Poetry Podcast on iTunes.
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Backstreet barricade, arcane
balustrade, hidden kingdom of wing and prayer,
details too fine to miss or mess with,
skinny escape from a netherhood  
of parapets and puddle soaked oaks.

Hospital palatial, shadows under foot and bed.
Time glacial. Fear the sound in both ears.
Tubes, lube, sudden exclamation,
declaration of unrepentance, remnants
of dinner untouched, rouged, hushed.   

Scat tracks, crosswalk, bebop
haircut; moonshine, daylight,     
pills not popped: no threats
to these daily threads I weave and weave.

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