Neon

Neon

Sometimes light
from the streetlamps
leak through the veins
of thin glass casings
slicing into leafy branches
spread-eagled on air.

Its flicker-whispers are heavy
on my bones
as they sidle into an ear,
through a cracked fingernail,
a hairtip.

Warmth is static
on skin forgetting shiver,
pulse failing quickness,
eyes left open
with body surging
to light’s breathing,
and the corner-sound
of glass breaking.