NaPM April 5th 2019

[RiverNotch]

Baby, maybe
you ought to drop
the violin,

maybe your hands
should wrap themselves around
the red and green wreath

on your brow,
pluck the plump
juicy

bubbles of poison
bowing its stems
by drawing purple

lines about your
neck, swallow
and regret

for only a moment, then maybe
those holly sapphires glowing
Star-of-Bethlehem-like on your

thick brow has, at last, turned you,
Santo Niño, man,
and I

your violin case,
your lectern,
your crown,

woman.