O, wet-black, gleaming sequin
Factory, a.k.a.: “you starry night,”
What’s with all the strobe-bright
Ornament? This is a coffin
Not some diva’s palanquin
I’m carrying. You get that, right—
O, wet-black, gleaming sequin
Factory, a.k.a.: “you starry night”?
Can’t you be like these banyans?
Ungrieving, but seemly . . . , polite.
It’s my father, for the love of Christ!
The new moon is finally risen.
A wet-black, gleaming sequin.
Factory, a.k.a.: “you starry night,”
What’s with all the strobe-bright
Ornament? This is a coffin
Not some diva’s palanquin
I’m carrying. You get that, right—
O, wet-black, gleaming sequin
Factory, a.k.a.: “you starry night”?
Can’t you be like these banyans?
Ungrieving, but seemly . . . , polite.
It’s my father, for the love of Christ!
The new moon is finally risen.
A wet-black, gleaming sequin.