Love Poem to Detective Megan Wheeler, Special Case Squad
You are a Cancer just like Cleopatra Lee
from undergrad: both redheads with freckles,
both maintain eye contact when in interrogation rooms
or at Mexican bars. Cleo didnt wear underweardo you?
Cuff me, lead me around the precinct.
Yes, I collected Shea Stadium into a ball, along
with Jeff Goldblum, Eric Bogosian, and St. Marks pizza.
The ball burned in orbit to make a superb,
underated, constellation I named Jerry Orbach.
He loves Tauruses (me).
Cleopatra unbuckled my Orion Belt once,
held my Executive Producer Dick Wolf (ha ha).
Yes, officer Wheeler, I will comply
to questions. I will stop Dick Wolfing around.
I have difficulty keeping this poem
confined to the Law and Order universe.
You remind me so much of Cleo, it hurts.
I cry when I watch USA and see you
dip your latex-ed fingers into the blood of murdered poets.
You will solve them. Solve me.
I dont cry for other USA shows, like Psych. Fuck Psych.
FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 27 | Law & Order Issue | Winter 2010