Axl rose bedside, blue the screen and blue the mood, rattle pills and stubbed out cigarette. Break.
Axl rose winding his hips, three snakes in line and light is autumnal. No. Axl rose, red band jacket
with coattails, sad piano and swaying back-up crooners. Tossing in bed, bleeding Jesus, long flute. 1
Cut the deck and cut again. Scorpio pulls the death card into every celtic cross. Scorpio knows death is not death singular. Restock your cupboards, pause your plans, mercury in retrograde and here comes the sun—brink of disaster.2
Stephanie Seymour brides the aisle, a dress with breathing room. The pope drops his hand, it's the holy ghost rainbow room banner. Slash smokes, Stephanie Seymour in a cloud of smoke, Seymour holds Rose, and that's rock tenderness. If you want to love me, darling, don't refrain—the ring's right there.3
Watch that centaur dancing on the coldest planet anyone can imagine. This is August leaving. Chiron healing, crisis magic. Chiron compulsion and Chiron consciousness. Brew roots to boil and steep. Drink deep. Dark into light into dark into light: skeleton-polish each secret. Do you want warm flesh, the gentle regenerator?4
Slash the aisle and Slash outside. Slash shirt unbuttoned and tied at the tails. Slash no eyes Slash guitar solo Slash don't you think you need some time on your own? One tiny chapel in the desert can't hold this greatness or this grief. Slash open like leather chaps. One dead tree and tiered white cake, Seymour and Rose, hair long as the day.5
Total solar eclipse of the heart. The wrong song at the right time. Howl a little and make a toast. Break the glass, Mazel Tov. Bless your heart in the goat's mouth. Righteous bleat and hungry hoof. Once the earth was summer hot, now clumps damp and decay.6
Children, dogs, and arthritics call the rain. Broken Cake and river wine. Jupiter laughs backwards, gets drunk. One elaborate casket and Axl bow-tied. Orchestra orchestra: Everybody needs somebody. Everybody needs someone.7
White bouquet tossed back, blood red mercury bloom. Leather strap and reign tight horse rear, pull that centaur near.8
Full moon and hot pink cross. Nothing's lost.9
Gala Mukomolova is the descendent of a Black Sea witch. She can cure your melancholy with more melancholy. Gala learned the art of a good show from the barkers of Coney Island where she's marshaled the mermaid parade. As an MFA graduate fellow at the Hellen Zell Writers' Program, she spends her time in a small but powerful coven of badass lady poets.