The Star-Spangled Turban
Hot pink frosting on my chocolate- cupcake noggin,
switched-on lightbulb- yellow, tulip- bulb topheavy
orange, sky-blue, bruise-blue, navy thought cloud, darkening:
Any towel, any shawl will serve as well to
bind this open wound atop me, mark me off as
not quite level- headed, tops on any watchlist.
It’s Old Glory that I choose this time: I pleat her,
sweep her, set her on my head as reverently as
any U.S. M.C. honor guard triangle
on a coffin.