Poets

 

--function best inside of ambulances,

whether driving or

receiving the EMT's fist on their heart as the sirens sing.

--must always be admitted only to hospitals with gardens,

preferably in some Spanish-speaking

hotbox of stucco-and-tile Catholic gin confusion.

--operate in a fog as reluctant circus cannon balls,

making door knockers of their own bones

and entering-and-breaking every secret heart in mid-air.

--arrive at the wedding of themselves to themselves

reciting vows from codebooks

once the property of some demolished poet-angel (body never recovered.)

--have no hero except the homunculus oracle

who keeps them awake all night

weaving flowers around their ears, lit and inextinguishable. 

--translate that thing you always felt but couldn't say,

wear codex clothing

and trespass the afterlife with a Gladstone bag and a talking bird,

in failing health, strong as vinegar, needed but not wanted in all 50 states.

_________

Georia O'keefe

for Word Garden Word List--The Legacy of Ladysmith

and shared with The Sunday Muse # 247.

image at top: BLOOMS by Anna Shuleit.

image at bottom: Charlotte Gainsbourg

Music: Paulo Nutini Iron Sky (utterly amazing)