Then saints
shed sashes

and epaulets
as if

there is a school for this.
Girls girls girls

wielding axes.
I mean breaking glass

birdlike. Wings
all weapon. We rip

through wind. Tangle
in the vine

of men.
Gravel and butter in

black and tan 
I frame and caption:

my own slick
grin and boy

oh boy how you studied me
on the museum tour

thinking you knew
all the licks.