CLASSY

CLASSY

this poem
too classy for you

then put on your
tailcoat and spats
go total J
Alfred

rising (for Christ’s
sake) to
the occasion

how that other resurrection
god laughed when
I told him how
she had
classified me

as white liberal poet
(the white
of her petticoat
itself
   somewhat showing)

insisting on an audience
and that Greek god of flowers
rolling in the aisles

is this what
she called you, this your
bestowed appellation

my little mortal
chaos monster

my faithful
blood drinking accolyte

got you so wrong
my head seems to want
to dislocate
   fly off at a
tangent

bringing the stars
down with me

crashing the server

my death
    adding to your poem
making it
a classic

bringing a volcanic beauty
to this stale drab night

as he whose
      words both doomed
and destined to prevail

stirs the cocktail
      from a safe distance

a more ferocious catalyst
yet to be born,
    we have yet to see