By Helen Coats

     I dizzy my way through infinite deaths — crashing
          daily into kitchen sinks, lintskinned under godlike
thumbs, or nabbed by a soccer mom’s doll-sized
     electric chair on a whitewashed porch, neon violet
           humming griddle, sizzle, then reborn —
Mother Time harkens to my battle whine,
      flung back&back&back,
          where I am named impertinent
by Aesop     & cholera bomb by
     the Japanese     & piece of shit by
          the Allies & shit-eater by
you, for you lust after immortality,     resent
     the Victorian gentledandies who paint me
          caressing charming skulls, and wonder
why Dickens     &Golding stoop
     to photograph my flight
          among the swirling
cinders of landfill fires
     frame by frame: chiseled
         ruby gaze,
     wax paper

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