Resuscitation

Yesterday I saw a girl
Of maybe twenty five springs
Clenched between the gutter
Of a urine stained sidewalk
And an insisting grip
Of an assertive hero
Compressing her helpless breasts
Back into the rhythm of life
Amidst a mob of matrons
Carrying sacks of blood sausages
With their mouths freely gasping the city air
Muttering to bystanders if someone called
And what happened and when and how long

I read that a guillotined head
Hears and sees for a few moments
Before it slips into darkness
That life lingers and clings and grasps

Is this why her lips contorted
And forehead wrinkled in regret
Even as her sweet honeycombed hair
Radiated in a crown of rapture
Too otherworldly for the earthiness of the pavement

How will my hour surprise me
And will it be the way
The great painters were commissioned
To portray their monarchs
In elegant stylish ecstasy
Or will I slip out cold and alone at night
Without a final word or a good excuse

Today a man shook my hand
Cradling it warmly yet firmly
Just for a second longer than necessary
Pouring his smile into my eyes
Without words
He revived my heart

©2012 Dosia McKay