Sediment and sidewalk teeter
at every moment. Watch
your step. Open the manhole
and pour in a bucket of light.
Seeming to be one thing
often means something else
entirely. Yellow raincoats contain
androgyny. A change purse
is also a fence. Tell me,
is a conductor still a conductor
once trading a stick for a broom?
Sludge turns to stone turns
to stardust. If the boxer stops
boxing and the waddler
stops waddling and the tap-
shoes stop tapping, then, my
friends, we might become
salt water. Keep up the box
and waddle and tap. But scrape,
too, and see what plaque protects
and conceals. Try to define
permanence—try, and the birds
and bark will deride such
presumption. How embarrassing.
Against purple pavement,
body and cosmos collide
and dissipate into copper coins,
broken bottle shards. Lavender
sprigs in concrete gutters.

Digital Art Ange Long
Poetry Haley Joy Harris
Editor Alaina Baumohl

Armour Magazine Season 25 — F/S 2020