when emptied out or flattened
(if they are lucky enough to realize it)
release their souls
into cable car throats.
This city is lining its wiry mouth with feathers
as the cables laugh a sharp triangular laughter.
With fibers interlocking
her quicksilver voice uncurls.
Brackish music peaks
that's when the torsion might spark
then fizzle out
like a ghost in a light bulb.