Isis, Cease to Weep

The sincerest of greetings
from an aerated chauvinist
comes after nightmares
of standard transmissions
guns without bullets
botching escape.
The fortunate wake with their teeth
still intact.

It's Shangri-La versus Valhalla.
All day long
stuck in your rhythm
with better places to be.

Good god
I see women from my father's hometown
and wonder why he ever left.
Springing to your assumption
is the part begged to play.
Mistaken for a misogynist
with only a weakness for women.

New wine fills the skin.
A pack of year-old cigarettes
medicates this latest retreat
after meeting the same bird
with a different wounded wing.

It's not the best Sunday for breathing.

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