My mouth is filled
with the taste of rust

and ***.
I sweat above her
& a drop falls

into the
shallow
of
her
neck.

The drop vibrating
like oi on the ground
from the passing
train – carrying

coal to keep
The cities burning.

In my chest,
the drone of a fly–

wheel
a counterwieght
a boiler
a bag of bees

She is below me
I feel her heart
it is an abrasion,
a bruise,
a beating fist
a bed of nails

This is how it is.

And here we are
lunging back
and forth like a Stoker
our breath chasing

after the last locomotive

plaintively
pulling away
                 from the station.