Chris Crittenden Without You if my heart shatters like twists of angels tumbled into dice, gin dissolving the last of their wings, you are gone from the metropolis of my blood, the achy fountains, the soft esplanades, the bridges heaving over storms. without you, the stars waddle like geese on ebony grass, dumb white-patched heads drifting where you once thrilled the linger of summer. the weepy flesh of guitars does not shudder like you— you are the sound music craves but will never be. i am jagged without you, stairs lacking rhythm, sine waves flung off cliffs into petunias of foam, into silent black bellies, fish that clutch lightning and drown— far from slender candles seen though wineglasses, their incautious pulse