sounds #3: hungover in tempe

last night’s dress
smells metallic
like boozy sweat and warm coins

flightpath rumblings
drum the ground
throb up
through the rough
op shop lounge
the machine resonates
to match my body’s
damaged rhythms
then bumps to earth

let me be back here
in six months’ time
long limbed sidewinding
through Tempe’s backstreets
not shivering from the cold
and my toxic blood

summer
watching bees embark
with pollen
not itching
under someone else’s
woolen blanket

when I’m less shaky
when we’re not just
huddled together for warmth