mta

The city writhes with silver snakes,
A pulse of sliding steel
That carries men within its veins,
And sings with brake and wheel.

The song it cries is known,
The path it takes is set:
An orrery of snakes,
A firmament below

That shines through grates
And rattles through
An unseen zodiac.

No man sees cause
But only need
To step and swipe and
Flee.