for Tami Dietz
Please, Tami, don’t you be upset
if I cough up more than I ate.
The wizards of love march
on the tombstone in my heart,
and they choke the weeds there
for nettles, that’s all it is.
And because I follow their lead I can
waltz the vultures down, I can stare
at death like any mystic will.
And because I follow their lead
built up toxins rumble through me
at odd hours visions I can eat
on a stick but can’t swallow.