Polly’s Tavern
Polly
along the night
the fiery red bush
simmers like stew
in the reefer head
in July
we trail to watch
the moon first appear
in a yellow coat
and with faint flow
a girl at her mirror
rose to the black curtain
and undressed her full body
to the sea
Tavern
the door is drifting
the first glow
is Miguel
hunched over thin paper
capturing pinches of dust
he is a cocoon maker
and fingers thumping
over Polly’s white keys
clear guitar
and sweet smell
I am a lost sailor
shivering in the yellow moon
of Polly’s dress
Peppermint Patty smile and cross-legged
above the cold window
the howling whale
drunk
and on his way
to Mexico