Tuesday, June 14, 2016

iconoclasm

the dead god hangs in state
his yet cold body 
embalmed in gold
anointed 
by the careful hands
of the women he loved

on the altar, 
candles
flicker
throw up light
and tallow soot
onto to those feet
i kissed a thousand times

look:
the polished precious flesh
a wise god and a cold one
look how he regards you
the glass eyed stare
of perfect death

your prayer your sacrifice
a thousand broken hearts 
the blood that gives this idol
life

but look:
how corpses go
decompose 
the gold on wood
that splits with rot
until the dead heart
breaks its cavity
and from the fertile earth
a blood red tree


No comments:

Post a Comment