Interrogation of the Blue Star
For I awoke in a strange bed. Sunrise &
the morning glory, surprised by vainglorious sky,
unfurled anew. Old as transcendent dirt,
its psychedelic seed. White-throated, Victorian
love, heart-shaped leaves, amulet, its buds skewered
the air as it recited funnel-shaped names—
Phalacrocorax, Orlando, Aztec.
For, unopened, I’ve the face of a tusk. Lucifer
on its purse, miracles in its ears, it jutted from a rich
heap of dinosaur dung. For I undulate, genuflect, faithful
to the calculated crank of this world’s axis.
Sulfur in my veins. Morning glory—Moon in
the Dusk, Brocade of Dawn, Wisteria girl—tied
to a stake, who could love you
more than your creator?