There’s a poem in my head
like too many cups of coffee.
a pea under twenty eiderdowns.
a sadness in my heart like stone.
a telephone. and always my
night madness that outs like bats
across this Texas sky.

I’m the crazy lady they warned you about.
the she of rumor talked about-
and worse, who talks.

its no secret.
I’m here. under a circle of light.
the light always on, resisting a glass,
an easy cigar. the kind

who reels the twilight sky.
swoop circling.
im witch woman high
on tobacco and holy water.

i’m a woman delighted with her disasters.
they give me something to do.
a profession of sorts.
keeps me industrious
and of some serviceable use.
…