God: show me what is true

Wed Mar 21, 2007 Filed in: Poetry
God:
show me what is true.
place in the hold
of my timid fingers
the cut feather

I wish to sign
with my own blood,
and have been trying!

but I cannot bleed enough;
I am always a letter short.

the flesh of Christ
cured and braided into rope,
is noosed
gently around my neck.
I believe my soul
will sling out through my feet
the moment my neck
splits.

I see my reflection peering up at me
from the pool at the foot of the gallows.
I look the same,
not like a man about to die.
perhaps the vulgar red of the pool
overwhelms the joy
and terror in my eyes.

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