A Jacket of Diamonds

 

 

All pink with atoms, all

stars of metal, that jacket

 

of diamonds with flamenco

neon windows, with platinum,

 

with power about the grind

of the tango’s fulcrum.

 

You know it is never more

than lava, that ruby firework

 

under this sea. Stars never love.

Stars coiled & clacking riot,

 

spark wood with pink telepathy.

It is all bits and pieces; we’re

 

flint that never boils. In gutters,

it is possible to lick the heels

 

of men, to grind those stars

of diamonds to clacking bits.