I fix every kind of stab wound, fractured clavicle,
gold teeth sliced out of sleeping mouths for trophy
earrings, all paranoia's graffiti pleading. Doc please

Some learned the palette is the devil’s platter,
the brush a crucifix: by law, no icons
no graven images “made unto thee.”

Though you learned the dance routines they made you learn
         and you were 1996 Colorado State All-Star Kids Cover Girl
            and you were 1996 America's Royal Little Miss

You didn't light my cigarette.
Offered your lighter so I could light it myself.
Recall the white room I took you to

You love when the oak leaves shimmer like silver,
and you love the Emergency Man.
You hear him running, the blood in your veins

They're calling old people seniors
short for senior citizens but it's as though
they're still in college and can look forward

I needed to find you and, once having found you, to keep you
You who could make me a physical Larousse
Of everyday living, you who would present me to Gilberte

We beat wings. We
fly rings. We

It's like heaven: you've got to die
To get there. And you can't be sure.
The publisher might go out of business.

Many things will still change,
other flags fib and sing,
different ideologies may march—