Make Them Last

But all your pedestals are altars, Earth,

and I didn't expect to die in my glory,

before the wings of my mansions could uppercut the sky.



At least you let me have my dignity and

lacking that, at least one last cigarette and



a few last words and the scraping together of wisdom

to make them last longer than newspaper headlines.



The sun was never the bullet in this rifle under my chin

because you were always my downfall, woman.

And everybody says, ooh, ahh!

Delicious Today

Today I feel deathly ill and delicious.
 Pale as the horses and the clouds and their bone China.
  And this morning I left the bare sheets behind in the creamy light
   Exhausted, frail and gorgeous.
    My feet are free and my hands are loose
     So my head is floating away and my hair
      Deftly brushing the stake in the heat
       And my tongue is barely there and tastes too sweet.

And it is all made possible because I wore pearls today.