pink helicopter 

i want my emergency to be glamorous.
there should be photographs to remember
just how purple the flames were.
a bedazzled stretcher to carry me 
into a tunnel of love. where have you gone alone?
i have departed into the depths of 
of a great urgent tonight. i have carried
my cell phone with no one to call.
finger ready to dial 911 in the hopes that
an angel will answer. 
a mirror in my pocket that i use to check
if i still am the gender i claim to be.
when the pink helicopter arrives
& asks what kind of emergency i am having
i will say, "a crisis of lures." by which i mean
i am afraid i don't look like the self i keep
in pictures. call me a vampire. call me
a body lying in wait. call me a retired
attraction. in the hall of wax love poems 
i am the candle. the face soured 
by the moon's fist. i am begging anyone
with a flare gun to let the girlhood keepers know
i am not trying to steal anything. i am 
waving my arms. i am assembling 
debris in the shape of a "help" sign.
no one who ever arrives can help me. 
instead, most of them join me.
put their eyes in the offering bowl.
we take turns snapping pictures none
of us will ever see.