MEMO

Re: Come done, un king --

the willful awe
the younger girls pretend
all the way to the ascending
eyelace -- their corsetted steps
along a ruddy line
that stitches into heaven --
is only a sick soaked in ink.
already, we invisible you.

O, Lord -- mister police --
please unloosen the pole
position from which your
shimmy hips mimic teeth --
there's nothing there beyond
a sucking pink. We all think
it's about time you come down.