St. Louis Woman

In a warm-lit St. Louis night,
you drew me into a flame.

Monday at BB's
your loose-knit top
stares me in the face:
white-velvet,
in a black-silk cage.

I call for Monk and a tango,
Catherine D. Snow
comes up fast—
You're hot, girlie!

On an afternoon of morning,
the dark is rising.

Do you feel it?
Here is your card,

the Second Child,

he is the reason.

You’re tired.

They’re here,

it won’t be long.