I Wish I May

In a wild moon night, filled with wishes
breaking free inside her,
she asks for her first husband’s ashes
to be blown back together 
into a hologram. 

Wife number two
never allowed a dying goodbye.

In a second wish, she requests
a tango with Antonio Banderas,
hoping, of course that she
will be able to use her legs 
again and that the allure
she once wore as a mantle
returns to mystify him.

She tosses out a third wish 
in a Miss America parody for world peace.

That next night her late husband
stands by her bed. They share
a dusty kiss, reminisce about better days. 

After, she dances through the house 
with Antonio. Roy Orbison shows up to sing
In Dreams, as a reminder.

At midnight the planet shakes.
Guns, missiles, tanks, molesters, 
killers, pediophiles, dirty politicians,
rapists and heads of torture camps
are sucked through a hole
in the sky, held captive by stardust.

The Garden of Eden grows once again 
in Brooklyn, with no apple trees
or snakes allowed, and, most of all,
no need ever for yanked ribs to create  
women from man’s image.