Halo That Lit Twice, The

Tell me where in what penultimate white

World do you imagine you can be quit

Of these

Blood-tied arteries which lead

Directly to the improbable thoracic

Cavity of me what Department of Erotic

Wars, what Alexandria, what character-is-fate, what coven

Of intensive care, what raven

Width, what upper GI ble what chamber

Of anatomy, what ice and vigory,

What breastplate, lymph what coat

Of arms, what curious unspeakable, what single lamp left

On in the vaulted amber window of the Public Library

Where a hooded friar has been deep in study

Lucubrating like the patron saint of random births

And worthlessness,

An accidental light left all night

Long pulsing slightly

Like the bundl one-ounce heart

Of an infant harvested, delivered here upon ice,

Which began to flap the wings quickly faintly Like the halo that lit twice,

That lit and faltered, halted, lit

Once more, and then went out

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