Polar Nettles

He takes his dinner in the bed
 Love sickened and infirmed
 The orderly found him there
 Filleted on the marble stairs
 Hat still in hand,
 His smoking remains blown out by a kiss from Nurse Someday Soon
 Someday soon
 Someday soon
 Some, some, some
 His eyes are closed
 He mouths her name
 The rosary her lips and tongue
 She is the centrifuge that throws the spires from the sun
 The Sistine Chapel painted with a Gatling gun
 Someday soon
 Someday soon
 Someday soon
 Someday soon
 Someday soon
 Polar nettles set on end
 Move like starlings up a cliff
 Antennae of her foggy touch
 The force field 'round her frosty hips
 Whose shape recalls the wicked spade
 That buried him but on his lips
 The last rites of Nurse Someday Soon