Friday, April 23, 2010

St. George (patron of England)

Saint George, restore me

to my senses.

All I have is the lonely arc

of what’s left:

a tin of shoe shine,

a bundle of slender matches,

my paper-airplane skin.

I reach up and under

your curtain. I can see

right into the middle-school

gym across the street.

It is full of balloons.

I pray to you as if

God is spun sugar.

My voice is bruised

after being battered

by all those birds.

Can you hear me?

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