A Poet for Ann Lee

Dear Ann, your christ is my christ
your rock n' roll is not trivial
if they put you in line
Don't subject yourself to intimidation
You're not a witch
You're not a reincarnation of god
You are the embodiment of finesse
You scream your own skin
Lydia, Patti, Polly, Ari, Aretha
YOU
Ann Lee; the template of the future:
Death-rattle circle-shaker.
Domesticated messiah of the future.
Come back and jam with me.