The Cruellest Month

One Drop

One drop of Love Potion Number Nine,
twelve black pearls strung around my white neck,
seven squirts of Chanel Number Five

and beat me, Daddy, eight to the bar.
I am singing Nesmith's Nine Times Blue.
My three wishes are plain vapour trails,

and one is the loneliest number
on a bad day. One revolution
of blood, of mood, might see me smiling.