Hell’s Gate
by Curtis Jensen
Sands fill a nose and then an ear—
A skinbag of sleep tossed from a railcar
By its ankles, by its slippery hands
To a barricade at Hell’s Gate built
To hold the sleep flood back
A few grains longer, a few moments spilt;
The difference between
Either gorge edge, either gate post
Either paddle wheel, either Flood Rock’s
Detonation or an anarchist riot-
300,000 from Patterson
Blowing into ears, into teeth—
A showerhead in a brick desert.
Curtis Jensen is an MFA candidate in the Creative Writing Program at Brooklyn College. He is the author of 5 chapbooks, and he curates the Prospect literary series. He maintains a blog at theendofwaste.blogspot.com.