When we brush against each other
the little swish our skin
might be audible
in the wild
or to the wild children of myth and science
on a windless day in August.
The hiss of a neon sign.
We have come together
to graze and laugh
at those the birds dare perch upon.
In the pocket of an old mink coat.
The four-chambered heart
is just complex enough
can hide indefinitely.
Glen Armstrong’s recent work has appeared in Conduit, Digital Americana, and Cloudbank. He holds an MFA in English from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst and teaches writing at Oakland University in Rochester, Michigan. He also edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters.