the patron saint of arts gives birth to dimmed stars and filed entry

dimming the scaffolds on the marquee of hearts and lore
the patron saint of arts’s collective harmonics pray needling
where pictures grow into mountains along a favorite fishing dock
measuring the terminated array of stock markets and medicine

this house was once a mete out mercy for stellar rainfalls
dictating the hammered stout argument like lions on the beach
traitors in the ICU dancing towards the death of lying whales
the straightforward conviction of law and order and trials

having to die alone while the Lt. Cmdr. rubs it in
she thinks I will not be pacified with hospital food
a comforting bed and a morphine drip to ease the pain
listing to Paul Simon until my breathing gets slow and dim
and I miraculously give birth to a blessed baby before I die
leaving the world with one more life to intoxicate and file