This flag, as the saying goes
smacks from the sun
so you salute, can use the shade
though by the time the parade cools
your fingers ache from holding up
a lovingly carved radio that once
was a woman whose voluptuous breasts
still feed you music from the forties
--love songs for common prayer
as if July, too heavy to bear
spreads out on every lawn
and by the 4th day you are listening
the way loneliness is fed, the Earth
turning you slowly on course
corrects for winds and nourishment.
