Friday, February 25, 2011

2 Corinthians 12:15

I have grown
comfortable with the endings of things.
Kind syllables start hard words.
A cry of joy sustained becomes moaning

every time. And it is

becoming for fine flesh un-
resurrected to wear death,
as a black fedora sits well on him shod
in ebony:

beauty’s proportion. But if

the heart of a man lives—
and the heart of a man does live
beneath the cotton cloth, the keratin
cloak, and stratified squamous

epithelium—he lives.