Emily as Innumerable Cigarettes

We needed clouds, you said,

from the stripped rib cage of a bird

on full teeter on the ceiling fan,

circling slow above the party.

Smoke up, darling, this room

needs a heaven, you said,

something that can choke out

the angels, bring them to us,

so we can parade them from lap

to lap like a girl desperate

to be the whole scene.  Light all

of them at once, you said,

let the alarms turn the music

to a burning jungle, let the animals

scurry onto the street in daylight,

let them stay there to fight the blue,

let's you & me be too stubborn

to not go extinct with the angels.