Sunday, April 25, 2010

St. Mark (patron of barristers & Venice)

your voice looks into me

with three dark eyes.

one of them is glass

and I can’t tell which.

this lion I know opened his

glittering mouth and asked me

to place my head inside. his spit

soaked my hair and I was not afraid.

I split from that morning

I woke up in your bed naked.

a streak of light brighter than

red cherries in a white cup.

I heard that the angels are jealous.

joy is to you what heartache is to me.

have you confused my relics

with someone who doesn’t know

the weight of these bones?

the holes full of stars in my teeth?

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