Black Light was not Needed
I used to wear my heart a little wet
With Day Glo blood, and pumping, on my sleeve,
A pulse of adolescent scarlet, jet,
Throb, jet in all directions. No steel greave
Protected it politely in this show.
Beats warbled as a sobbing gospel song
Instead of being like the ordered glow
Of Isaac Watts, a hymn that moves along
The nave in measures of decorum, pace
On pace to grandeur. It was all just “I”
And “me,” though Jesus had his place
Because His Sacred Heart was like my sigh.
..A teenage boy can send out sounds like dread
.
……Appeals, loud silent sounds like infrared.