A mouse scratches its way
through my head, clawing deeper
each time I blink my eyes.
Alone in the museum I buy
a gold leaf laurel necklace, direct
a woman to Ancient Greece.
A wall of geodes appears
as a doorway I enter in.
The cavity lined with crystals,
sharp edges of my brain.
When the subway swerves
around the track, it captures
the city as a closing aperture
in an iPhone’s reflection.
A woman teaches her son to say
garbage repeat after me. I turn away
I can’t eat. I have a weakness
in me that attracts others
who are weak. Ice crystallizes
on the window, tiny trees.