St. Agnes shouldn’t let her girls go
but she does with shrieking bells
and could be they planned the wind
just for Sal: why they make them skirts so short!
his eyes grey and hot like the barbecue
burned too long, needs coal, Charlie
pours some and maybe he’s embarrassed
until Sal unwraps the beef and says See
that’s why it’s a crime. Bloodwater splatters
the sidewalk. The right hand giveth
and the left hand….The right hand giveth
and the left hand….He’s throwing meat
at the fire. Charlie’s nervous; maybe
the man has slipped again, head full
of gristle – sometimes it gets hot –
They got mammies and they got pappies
a whole new kit, fresh out of the box ,
those little bodies all rubber and snap-dragon –
oooh it’s just sunrise in those eyes! And lookit you
Mr. Noon! Sal’s too close.Sal’s too loud,
the girls are coming up the hill.Why think
of father and sister here, suddenly, your lost
teeth, suddenly, the blonde of your hair gone
brown, the torn-down house, the teenage drive
when you saw the white cow die, fascinating:
the viscera leaking out, fascinating: one might
know God by this design. But Sal’s got Charlie
by the liver; burger’s burning and Charlie’s
leaping into hot metal: now everything falls
and the street’s a fakir-dream of embers
Haha! shouts Sal. He’s on the ground;
that’s the smell of flesh burning
and smoke from his shirt – Charlie’s
stretching a hand but Sal’s got a coal
in the palm and a white smile:
that’s what it is to buy it back youth,
charring skin to the fresh hand he was dealt.
Across the street the girls have stopped
and one grabs the fat of another one’s arm
as their timid gaze falls on the mess of the men
while the others age in the sun
and cover their eyes and are gone.