A Steady Carry On

A Steady Carry On

after Frank O’ Hara

And when I’m better, I’d like a new wife.

One who is averse to refined sugar 

and who does not give me diabetes. 

A woman who loves Frank and Billie

as much as unhindered floor space.

When my nightmares disappear, I’d like a new wife.

One who cares about our little bit of money.

Who’ll lay her cards on the table and cut them up.

A lover who knows my illness and knows what to do

when I’m raging inside its stinging wasp nests.

As my eyes turn blue again, I’d like a new wife.

One who’ll read me forensically, ask the right questions

about the rhythms and the truth of it all. What is being said.

A comrade who understands the compassion of red.

Who responds accordingly and without a duplicitous lie.

And when we’re near death, I’ll still want her as my wife.

Unafraid of holding hands, tipping the occasional wink.

When I can no longer chew, she’ll flick crumbs from my chin. 

I’ll remind her how beautiful she is in every conceivable light.

She’ll still call me handsome, as our day twists into night.