Archive 501
Vivian Galván García
this is how I bury my dead TNs
By Sebastian Callawaytwo bodies on the train, shimmering
fat on the form makes me out to be soft and porous
and penetrable but what if I want to exist
as something
a polished slab of wet concrete
uprooted
an infinite ashtray is
growing beneath floral wallpaper
i can feel my sneakers rotting off my feet
i wear these holographic tns
pulsating veins
watching people watching me
as i watch them
on the 2 during a prime july sunset
gliding over many converging steel veins of gare du nord
i want these chromatic bones and
holographic plastic converging in my body
pulsating throughout my veins
warm flesh
absolutely everything I desire
evident in the lines of
my tattoos and
my holy skin and
a volume you cannot find
two bodies on a cool ground
welding bits and pieces back together with
slow, circular, melting motions
one existing in eternal
communal railways
two pearlescent
one sex, cool subway tile
so, i will take you out to the backyard of my childhood house
digging a crevice into the earth
for years, eating the dirt along with it
laced up cleanly
bearing layers and
layers and
layers of expired self and
no track left
i will leave you
here, to flower
i find when i have finished
digging your bed
my feet have grown roots of their own
i am welded to the ground
unhoused
holographic plastic
has converged in my veins
.