Variety Pack: Issue VII

2 GLUTTON

by Martin Breul Tarmac bones branch out bringing with them light and smoke cement tissue, steel sinews and brick fibre cable nerves transmit aluminum veins pump electricity all nooks and crevices sprout green growing wild on old railways carefully gardened into shape near playgrounds trains and ships and trucks suck in substance from all over as the city breathes and chokes and breathes breaks the sweat of manure and bleeds wastewater debris phlegm trash is secretly disposed of, hidden shamefully far from the fresh layer of suburban fat that grows in happiness.