to the Virgin Mary.

Your plasticine face
this morning--

hovering in the neighbor's drive
like asphalt heat mirages
and too much post-dawn gin

You're no Oprah Winfrey
No Cihuacoatl at my cross roads
with your guns and snakes raised
full naked blazing--You

made me question loneliness more
than the consequence of my desires
than nighttime American television