St. Lucy

St. Lucy Queen of Littler Mercies deliver me from

this hungry ordinary of landlocked sealess

worlds that refuses the rock of lullaby and transiting

moons come down Lucy rooftop-wise where

I've cultivated a shrine of moss am ready to play

bareback truth-or-dare ready for the angle-iron

of your thumb and forefinger straightening

my entrenched chin oh Lucy Relentless who

went to the river to baptize the fish who illuminated

with willpower and glo-sticks who brings the erasers

of thunderstorms that sweep this tired old world

away Lucy of Kisses final as epitaphs oh Lucy

Eater of Snakes and Cupcakes whose epistles

will not rhyme will not behave whose dresses are shaved

from waves that come in and go out without

end Sweet Lucy of Wild Animals how I am tangled

in you as a tiger caught in burning bush turning in

a whirlwind desert of jackalopes and dancing bears

that arrive locomotive-wise to carry us bass-ackward

through our grimaces and gates oh Lucy of Tenderness

and French-kisses if we are nothing but candles

ensconced in suntanned flesh if our souls are as full as

hourglasses in centrifuges Lucy of Hidden Holies and Dirt

then teach me your green dharma poke out my eyes

with dowsing rods Lucy of Scuppernong Wine open

me to all that you know smooth of skin and songs

and hips holier than this scared world of false truths

that trembles under the knife of outer space

and ignorance which  may kill us today tomorrow

but in the mean-time Lucy of Long Blind Nights will you

just come down to my roof here under the stars

please.