Not A Drill
We’d only just retired
To our hideout on the hill
When the first gunshots were fired:
This is not a drill.
The bullets barrage
Is not a mirage,
Though we wish its intrusions were fake,
But if the world were on fire
You are what I’d take.
There’s the mirror I made in jail
From a piece of shattered glass,
Painted with details
Of daisies and honey grass.
It holds your reflection
& it’s also a weapon,
Like any good thing that I make,
But if the world were on fire
You are what I’d take.
There’s the comb I whittled there
While the inmates sharpened shivs.
You’ll run it through your hair
As long as you still live.
Its tines make yourself straight,
My lover, my cellmate,
But our walls are no longer opaque.
If the world were on fire
You are what I’d take.
We’ve got our guns and knapsacks,
Our good reserves of rye
A briefcase full of greenbacks
To spend before we die;
Now the cabin’s a rock-pile
To bury our stockpile
& the roof is beginning to quake,
But if the world were on fire
You are what I’d take.
There’s the bible on the dresser,
The tear on Mary’s cheek,
The cross of the confessor
To whom I rarely speak.
The rosary’s lain
Like a ball and a chain
That I never could manage to shake,
But if the world were on fire
You are what I’d take.
We’ve got clippings of past glories
From the papers of the west,
Overwritten stories
Of romance and conquest:
Us making poses,
Our teeth around roses,
Our legacy burning at stake,
But if the world were on fire
You are what I’d take.
There’s the folio of writings
You secret in your ledger
What fears you found exciting,
What turmoil gave you pleasure
Our prayers to our lord
The keys to the Ford,
In which you and I must make our break
But if the world were on fire
You are what I’d take.
So let’s assess the damage
Before we take another blast:
Will that ledger be your bandage,
Will that blotter be your cast?
Will my decorative touches
Be the powder keg,
Will my letters work as crutches
To heal your leg?
Will the story be the fuel,
Will the rosary be a fuse,
Will it feel like renewal
To burn what we choose?
As the flames clamber higher
And we begin to perspire
Will it feel like we’ve made a mistake?
If the world were on fire
You are what I’d take.
Will you call the town crier,
Will you call me a liar
Will you call god a fraud and a flake?
Will you summon a choir
To the widening gyre
Of the house that you chose to forsake?
If the world were on fire
You are what I’d take.
I’ll pick you up, and put you on my arm,
Pick you up, and put you on my arm
Like a charm,
Pick you up, and put you on my arm,
I’ll pick you up, and put you on my hip,
Pick you up, and put you on my hip
When you slip,
Pick you up, and put you on my hip,
I’ll pick you up, and put you on my neck,
Pick you up, and put you on my neck
Serve & protect,
Pick you up, and put you on my neck,
And if the world were on fire
You are what I’d take.