The second coming

Astonished by a light refracted
in floating candles, the steps, a gesture,
a witching hour but the circle
broken, with blood and bone

broken, the moon shone
impassive, beautiful, cold
as the moon is, but
something broken, something

not right.

He approached; we all rejoiced,
not knowing what he might do.

Many years since in the reckless world we went
traveling their trains and fields of sweet rose bay
and silver-lined cities. Gears grind shards
of blood and bone and moon

destroying, creating, fixing the circle,
the cross, but no, not well, not
carefully enough, the wind
blowing through steps and through

empty spaces not even there,
silver, blood, bone,

not there.

He approached; we all rejoiced,
mindless of the terrible power that had
changed his countenance since Galilee.

We all rejoiced, praying, grasping, thinking:
this is r e a l l y going to be something.


from the new poetry chapbook (click to view)


2 thoughts on “The second coming

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