08/28: the river, brass

The city exploded in gold at me;
two brides spun silk across the gilded bridge;
I swerved the streets, on a cathartic spree;
antiquities and motorcycles ridged
the river; brass and mildew corners thrust
the skin-bright sky with a green patina
that I myself took on, a thinning rust
in equilibrium to fatten a
slim bride after her silken ways turn gray.
They kissed! Two women! Decked like parasols
on this historic way, they laughed and swayed
and wrapped their lacewing arms to break their falls
around each other’s sculptured, winnowed waist —
the city pivoted around this grace.