I wish I had a card heart,
strawberry-red & molting;
But I am
inverted & blackened: who wants
to be the ace of spades?
Three friends who cannot engage
the brown spirits:
speak evil, see evil, look
to the stars for a sense of perspective.
Candle svelte like a V2,
a thing like a tongue, backlit
fishnet cathedral glass.
Everything's in the cards
if the cards are marked & there's
a sodden old handkerchief tucked
up your sleeve. Perspective
gets distorted when you're yucking
it up with the boys. O to be
a joker instead of the suicide
king, always plunging
the saber deeper when
all you wanted was to
scratch
what itched
you & carve your name
into the table
before getting lost toward the bottom
of that unlocked dresser drawer.
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