The Copper Taste

The sneeze hit me hard at the crosswalk light

and then came the heat, sudden and fast.

I felt the first drop hit the lip of my coat,

a bright, wet secret that wasn't going to last.

I fumbled a napkin from my pocket's depths,

scratchy and white, then heavy and red.

The woman beside me shifted her bag

and looked at the curb or the clouds instead.

I tipped my head back to the gray city sky,

swallowing the salt and the metallic sting.

It’s a lonely way to stand in a crowd,

leaking your life like a broken thing.