Bobby and His Grinning Flag

We all die with the soldiers singing
“Me and Bobby McGee”
Like a Friday streetlight out
In the morning
Torrents of sold love to the
Minimum bidder
Smoldered wet sounds
Of pets in the workshop
“I told you I didn’t want to be here”
“I never cared for what you had
To say,” sings the soldiers of God’s
Misfortune
A lie to the hawks in
Diving supper sparrows
Alone among the ashtrays of wild lion-trees
Pulling the strings on the parade of Sunday joy
Polling the pews like a splintered wish
“don’t you want totalitarianism,” she says
“not if it means I must sleep with
you,” I retort
Do not touch me
Do not come near
Do not attempt to flame dual
Lantern dreams
When milk-singing oranges will do
Leave me to my bitterness
And hollowed equations
Of a disguise meant for soldiers singing
No key under this flag
This fabric that betrayed me

Previous Article
Next Article