they say
when swallowed it
sticks inside you
between your ribs.
when you move
it'll pull you apart
they say.

they say
when swallowed it's
there to stay.

Q: forever?

A: like hate.

pause

sweat collects in hollows between sound
and vertebrae
salt crusting over against the wall, skin.

i roll words and worlds between my cheeks
dusty marbles under the tongue rattling in
the empty spaces
not right and
too hard
too cold.

i spit them out and look
away before they land.

like blood in vein
the city streets hum far below

she licks her lips
they taste like FORTY-PERCENT-OFF! and fine dust
comfort in the familiar grit
pavement on her tongue

she is looking for broken constellations in
windows and headlights
the aching blues of the exhaust fumes she breathes as
she steps closer
toes curled
over the edge of the building
over the edge of the world

she could fall
she might fly