Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Christ of the Incas


Suspended, he follows me
Around the market
With his red eyes.
His palms are bleeding,
Dripping in a numb rhythm to the parched silt.
He is held up by the cross, a bowed body with bare, distended belly,
Streaked with dirt and blood and hungry fingerprints. 
He says nothing. 
I do not know
If he is an offering
Or a warning,
But his circlet of thorns,
Bramble or rose,
Has fallen to the earth
Below the sinew and bone
That hangs, full weight on the cross,
Nailed like a snake to a door. 

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