December 1, 2021

Called by Name

I used another name last night,
took initials and a ringleader’s bandanna
into calibrations of changing moonlight.
I carry knives in every pocket,
a coin lucky for the week.
Loose on my hand,
the signet ring is a stranger’s fit.
I use Crown Royal to share my voice,
a shoplifter’s Mont Blanc to sign
broadsides written for the war.
Fortunate in a year of injury, circuit failure,
I select a difficult souvenir,
take a motorcycle track
and a letter to Sam Houston.
Like war movies I’ve seen,
the ethics of death aren’t his concern.
I stand at bayou’s edge, watch
campfire consorts spill Beaujolais.
Let Barabbas explain the next message.
I wrap black silk around a racer’s derby,
lean my bike towards the nearest coastline.
I’m gone from here.

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