Ordination II

Ordination II
[for a whore]

Tongue stained brown like syrup dressed
in retired reds, leather gait on awkward hips-

an artificial heart meets out the seasons in
the sunny park, for her assignations, where
dogs shit and bark.

The absurd moon is there, and those
law-abiding planets, which are as old as
she and her unfamilial vocation-

exchanging untaxed time, nodding into
the spiderless corners or waiting, as
she wills to wait, with breaths that rhyme.

Cracking cough and summer chill, what’s
worse than someone there is no one there, still.

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