Momentarily by Brenda Coultas

“We are held here momentarily”
said the conductor,
on an island off the coast of Manhattan
by the silhouette of an asylum, where they make skeleton keys
out of rainbows, and out of actual skeletons
from the catacombs of the Marble cemetery
where people turn into greek marbles
like a game of statues
industrial green
umbrellas are made here
rib by rib
and shoes, this an island of cobblers of roman sandals.
and we are held here monetarily,
mortality.