There is a hush in the room.
It’s the city hiding

beneath the scars on your face,
buried deep in your touch,

trying to escape in whispers,
gasping for more. Then,

shafts of streetlights wrap
your body

standing by the window,
as though a prisoner’s

plotting maneuvers against
the void. But soon, you

abandon the light for
the edges of my toes,

and their penchant for
territories still unexplored.

Michael Caylo-Baradi lives in California. His work has appeared in Blue Fifth Review, Blue Print Review, The Common, Eclectica, elimae, Galatea Resurrects, Ink Sweat and Tears, Local Nomad, MiPOesias, NewPages, Our Own Voice, poeticdiversity, Philippines Free Press, Poetry Pacific, Prick of the Spindle, XCP: Streetnotes, and elsewhere. He is an alumnus of The Writers’ Institute at The Graduate Center (CUNY).

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