all of the bus stops 

i wandered over the bridge today,
the one that backwards bends over
the train station. i am a person
prone to feeling smaller & sometimes
i seek out the denouement of my own body. 
beneath the bridge, the pit
orchestra playing oboes & the flute
that my mother sang with, still apart
in pieces on the dresser in my childhood
bedroom. the sun showers here come
with the slightest change of the wind.
i felt it coming too late, all the way
in the center of the bridge with the whole
universe on either side. i saw Nut 
the Egyptian goddess of the night sky,
her body pockmarked with hot stars, 
making an arch over everything. the bridge
another one of her spines. i felt 
the vertebrae at each side walk crack.
the train pulled in. the people coming
out were all birds-- all birds but me.
isn't that how it goes? the rain 
looking at herself in a full length mirror
a new dress to twirl in once. the rain
drenching me as i stood still. i picked 
up my cell phone because i wanted to call
someone & ask you, my grandmother, why this keeps
happening to me, the rain barreling felicitous
& feral, smacking her hair on the pavement & 
letting each drop of bruise sizzle where
it once was too hot. this time when i 
called you, you didn't recognize my voice.
you told me to hang up & bother someone else
until i said, yes it's           . i see 
my vocal chords like a bridge & with each blood shot 
of testosterone the bridge becomes more 
of a belt to be slapped with. hear me, hear me, 
is there not something left of us? not a timbre 
you knock, the cracks of the spine? the birds
laughing on the stoop? is this 
mouth our reed? the oboe making
a tunnel-throat for us to stand in. 
on the other side of the road i think
they're building a hospital but 
i'd prefer not to know. Nut shifts
to stretch, to feel the rain on her face.
on breaks the men in white hard hats 
become pigeons & perch on the gum-stuck curb. 
you tell me that you once knew 
all the bus stops,
all of them across the east coast. i tell
you the name of my new city again, 
rain dripping down my face with the sun
already out again, beaming as if
she had not just professed raw words over us.