on the two train to somewhere in brooklyn (an unedited draft)

the tick of the leg bouncing as the 2 train moves
through urban to suburban
i wish
this were not my cross
i would throw it down
into an abyss of self

only
to find myself in a similar headspace two moments later
only
to find myself
on that unholy hill
retrieving each tick, with deft
half-moons in skin
and leg
bouncing to the rhythm of the transit system
as it moves us through space and time.

i hold tightly to this cross, instead
shutting my eyes tight agains the currents of the car
and i ask Him
to take this Bitter Cup
from my trembling hands.