My rubber face could take a punch

I’m red thigh high to marabou

I’m candy-striped to slipper mule

My rubber face could take a punch

Candles electric, soft plates in plastic

Thawed shrimp and red jelly —

This night could take forever

My rubber face could take a punch

The nylons are mantle-nailed

My vision goes all to braille

Shaved down to nightgown

Up in my bedroom — now

Sing, choir. This is dire. What’s that

I hear on the roof? He’s come for me

You’ll think I’m here, but I’ve gone far

Far away now, far off in winter, thick

With icing, high, high in thе sled, wet

In red vеlvet, steam rising off our hot

Hot hair, the deer’s every little bell evaporating —

Oh glory to bedsheets, I’m in excelsis! How

How the air doesn’t hurt now. I know

This should sting so high up in space

I know this should hurt, but we’re so close

Close in the sled. I cry, “Drive! Drive til I’m —”