If I fell to my knees,
jeans in the dark dirt, would you raise me high?
What happened to this heart, this love?
Why do we believe in the world that failed,
pray for the smoke and the poisoned lungs
of babes which sucked in everything
we nurtured, the venting spleen
which gave way to your mothers’ toxic waste,
your fathers’ mute faces, distant, and even still
we burn the flags that offend, we scream and moan
and jeer at those who try beneath the thin mask of offense.
I have no words for swine. No pearls for the great apes
who lope at Wall Street, the common man who
leaned over his drink, softly weeping to Patsy and the jukebox nostalgia.
The old gods had it right. Cut off the organs of the father
eat out your lives, hold the world on a breath.
This is an entreaty to you, lady of golden eyes and honey love.
Naked Lady of the Half-Shell. Come back.