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The Frame of a Moment in his PresenceEffleurage the boyLet the quiescence of the room hum,In the sallow lights of sanctumWe’ve createdFrom the cactus bloomsOf sweat resurrecting in your palmsI am conquered yet protrepticCaught up in untied questionsI wait by the chain link fenceThe plumage of ashLoosens from the shriveled remainsOf a white cigarette birdIn flight we tailor it a nameWe call it a burning irrationalitySufficient to sayOne that I shall not easily forget
Painful
The twist and turn of 200 stomachs
Gathered, hands folded with handkerchiefs in the wrangle of the thoughts
All of us, fishes in a tank
Listening, forgetting, remembering
Crying tears that are lost in mahogany wood of the pews
With a bunk for a dead boy
Below the upheaval of Jesus Christ’s chest
And all the satin flowers watered and new
Why? Because this is the tragedy. And why?
Because the red sun doesn’t forget the day
And life doesn’t forget to snatch you dead
And turn you belly up grey
And whirlwinds come once and awhile
And they come in forms of ludicrous angst,
To my dear God’s child
Weight the anchor on this massive ship called church
We breathe,
Because we can…
And know that not everyone gets to breathe for very long