the uprising of grand central

By Boris Ingles Salvador

growing unattended
in the coldest hour

dying flowers
germinating
along the night

infesting the street
like strange parasites
on raw scabs

bold
nocuous
vermin
crawling chain-link fences
on broken pavements

queens
in heat

crude
& coarse

odor of wet
roaming
ravenous
dog

scarcely alive
yet moving
denying death

we are the insurrection
burning along
the iridescence
of night