Laszlo Aranyi

Sublimation

He thought he heard
some kind of muffled hiss
like the pop of a carp’s swim-bladder

He fell nine stories
smeared upon the asphalt
without so much as
a ‘holy shit’

Passers-by formed
in an orderly circle
staring down at the sight

Ice-cream cone like the holy grail
in the hand of a big-assed woman
greedy licks with elongated tongue
heavy with the plaque of decay

At such times
the wrecked remains
are abandoned beyond
all perception

The departing cool is pale
light as the breath
that fades from
pink to white

Piss trickles down
from under her skirt
wrapped around
broken thigh bone

Bicycle tires
and shoe prints
strange jewels
in a pool of blood