This Spokane

 

I searched beneath him
for a pulse
for a desperate truth
in the folded flesh fabric hanging like hot meat
in the circuitous path of the smoke coiling around his mascara
would I lift that velvet vaporous veil of myrrh
to kiss him
like childhood again
like you've forgotten it all
as birds are demons
weak shoulders and his soft tits
the thick rich red of his righteousness
hungry like an altar boy

what parable of sour truth betrayed you
oh so long ago?
what trails divide
that should never cleave?
what love is wasted on Unnecessary
and Divine?

imagine him sad
if you must

but struggle to find the proof
to your father
to your friends
to your priest.

TA