ALLEN TATE'S BIRTH
NOV. 19

Each hour reading you
is taken inside
a fugitive's comfort zone
at fourteen stations
on the 1865 agrarian nails
still over the Southern cross
seen in sky blue sequins
of the starched bridal gown
in florid and liquid Maple
from a beloved Marian flower,
at sixteen when on vacation
reading you by the ash trees
in a capable romantic hammock
how you chose to smoke
out the sectarian candles
on your scintillating marble cake
murdered over
your third wedding day plates
yet offering to us a fern of memory
darkened at our failing history
watching the impolite clock
of Abe Lincoln at Ford's theater
your shuttered words twisted
shot up and pistol whipped
in a beautiful conscience
of a silent yet resilient pacifist
an enlisted cool knight of faith
whose radiant showering verse
iced the twisted body of my thesis
in a rested masked silence
of masculine -feminine
middle aged authorities
yet sensitive to form and grace
divining the spirit of a poet's place
reminding me of the movie star
in a guerrilla's role for Errol Flynn
as a good guy Robin Hood
in your forest neighborhood
as we watch an intruder thief
with an assassin 's scrutiny
in the night awakening curses
at rambling fearful sounds
for an ace of diamonds history
in a four of clubs you win
up your  pace of a gambler sleeve
at Arthur's grail fought for
the immortal chalice cup
around a superficial enabler
seeking another Guinevere
not  ever playing the joker
in life's clever lottery
but not ever giving up
outside at the parking spot
with any Lancelot who was there
always up for a sword fight
at the rear and avant garde Word
but only using your facial verse
in mirrors, bars and round tables
made into a poet's romantic life
critically free toward you
in so many scrapes forthcoming
as a token of papal love returned
the things of unspoken powers
hanging just by the thin rope
of belief you earned your reward
amid the towers of angels wings.