Reinvent your life because you must.
The annunciation from that halo-broke
Bukowski has been barked at me for
weeks now and while I’m not the sharpest
knife in the drawer I’ve grown to know
when a message is earmarked for me.
My son gave me a rich robe for Christmas
saying, I’ve never seen you wear one,
but maybe it’s time. My only son sees clear.
Yet another sign from fleshen messengers
telling me what must be done, and the
chilling reason why behind it all redolent of
that one declared to the Virgin: Because.