Who said it was vintageable beauty?
Perhaps it had been transformed after birth?
From Under the Volcano
From Under the Volcano
Or delayed in its inception
It became so precious due to assimilating forces
Forces that flip-flopped
Evil on its belly
Forces that screened
Carcinoma out of the skin
If I were to have a vitageable
Hour or day -forget the year
I would deem it semi-hard like
A good goat cheese
I would look at it
Through the flakes of raw salt
I would listen to it as
The bread knife streaks across the crunchy crust.
Then, I would spin my body in front of a
Decomposed mirror
Reflecting puzzled, conflicting parts just
Like the Continents at strife
I would invite a gymnast to do an Olympic
Beam routine
Backbenders and flips on an abandoned
Submarine torpedo
Finally
Reaching for a volcanic Mexican bottle
With a dated black and white boney Frida Kalo
Image on its etiquette
I would take a vintage swig to
Cool and numb the burning of my spine
Laid out in a desert
Over a sloping sand dune.
