Finger prints

magdalen

~

You were imprinted on my fingertips

written as dim memory

in line and skin

~

I kept your image at arms length

or balled it into a fist

A turning away

from the violence

As if there is no real death in ascending?

~

As a child

it is true

I was taught to expect some relationship

while being impressed into the feverish tribe

of Jesus watching

~

Before me

pale lipped men

created tension

bells ringing

Climaxing

with a tiny chaste taste

~

Who clothed me

in this rag tag skin of living words?

Held hostage

~

Until

I fall pummeled and wading

in the waves of this unexpected birthing

Free now to love you simply as a man

~

A man of flesh and bread and wine

who once lived to turn the world.

~

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Artist: Caravaggio

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osmosis

~

thought hovers

is this thought mine?

~

I watch the few words

just there

I look askance to see if they move

do they move of their own volition?

no

they hover

simultaneously

we’re moving through walls

what does this mean?

~

I once could hear through walls

I’d lost my skin

rendered immobile

I heard nuclear indifference

red lights green lights

flying metal and a dying jesus

I wet myself

although the bed stayed dry

~

I looked for what was left

at the time

I was empty

much later I understood

this was the right place to start

~

it takes awhile

starting from nothing

to un-know everything

~

we hover

not knowing

we move through walls

~

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    Acrylic on paper….j. h. white