Thursday, March 24, 2011

On Crucifixion (Poem)

Here's the latest addition in my meditations on J. Kirk Richards.

Feedback welcome.

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On Crucifixion

Some seduction, this—flesh stripped of sweat,
blood, breath, soul; body gone limp at the crux
of God's mystery, shipped home C.O.D.
in a crate stamped "Fragile," pinned

to the threshold of paradox like a sack spit
by vespers into the neighbor's vining buds.
From here, leaf chatter and whisper of plastic
sound like questions shedding their skin:

When God cross-dresses in death, does
the universe blush? Does it worship
the crimson-stained grain of his skin,

the shadow of his ribs? Does it praise
his left breast until milk warms the tongue
like redemption? Like silence? Like blasphemy?