...red ears pressed to the humming / red intestine of the building where the plaster’s peeled off, / we push our chests against the doorways, / press our sweet soft fingers into / the red intestine of the building, the plaster peeled off, // but I wanted to tell you still how lovely we are. // Our hard, skilled fingers nothing but / caulk between the stones— / but I wanted to tell you still how lovely we are, / in our grave and vital nonsense.