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Train of Mercury Stations Direct 

Zaina Alsous

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Hum along to the podcast, How Do You Want to Die?
Because that’s all you want, isn’t it dear? A window

seat afterschool. An end to reflective glass that pretends
to know. My face and the eyes of the train;

a yellow horn born at daybreak. A mouth full of simple
syrup. What is left to do? Suspend a body, feed

the earth dessert: bile, melted sugar, and red dye.
Graceful guests give back, refusers steal

itinerary for heaven. Dress, indigo minerals on rim
of an eyebrow, myrrh oil three times between thighs,

the last tattoo from a poem that knew me. How about yes,
please, come as you go. Heights are indifferent but fresh

air is fresh air. I am tired of waiting and losing
feathers in vain. Aspiring or Nothing,

more or less a subjunctive of pitch. Subhan’Allah.
To whom it may concern: Today, I am alive.