i was standing on johnston street
when she fell out of the sky
an angel black as soot
eyes pooling 29 lifetimes
joy just off the boil
an OD that morning
a child to hold
a heart to capture
a furnace to refuel:
bar open
heiroglyphics swim
on the light pouring out her throat
as she embraces all of us
coal tumbles from her mouth
she dances upside down
her hair, refracting prisms, rears
she's 12, she's 98,
she died last year
she rises over me
like frida kahlo on her funeral pyre
the resurrection booth is open
Monday, January 05, 2004
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