Michael Igoe
Nitrogen Cocktail
He kept a holy card in his wallet,
St. Michael in a duel with Satan.
To wake younger
when waking up.
The veteran mirror player
examining his pockmarks
as mercury fills a gaslight.
A furtive glance at the gray sky
where are birds on tender wing.
Much later after drinking
all the hot soup he could,
he began to walk flatfoot.
He leaves the world
whenever he tries it.
By some dubious assurance
he’s completely convinced
the world turns blue to red.