March 26, 2009

My tongue aggrandizes
academically, that is to say
I don't love You. I say
I do, I'm covenanted to
what I've said. You know
that promise is deliverance,
for in times lacking touch
I've lusted for our violence,
a toothless tearing of flesh;
a rationalism You'd hate and I would regret.

Perhaps in refusing our separation,
I've instead divorced my heart
from my head.

A creed to come back to,
a serpent bronzed, a representation
of inauguration; something solid to
repent into. A cup that is deep enough
to hold blood for my contrition
to dissolve in, a body that is strong
to be lifted up, once for my sin,
and then once again.

What tragic beauty, arabian jujube
pressed in scarlet curls,
perspiration falling on the neck of
Your heaving back, eyes falling to
the dust of the ground.
You felt as I do now. A separation
what ran through You and what You said.
But unity was stronger, still is,
than that which splinters our skin.

Day 4: Evening

Matthew 4

Tonight it was rice cereal
spilled following a tired ride.
Ominously my eyes follow
yours closed anyway, but I know:
the devils will come tomorrow.

They came for Jesus, promising
that which He would have by way of
pain and patience. Devils always
flaunt temptation as fulfillment.
When they stand me on the mountain

they are offering everything:
first the sex that we did not have,
then the affirmation i feel
i lack, and finally they push
me to senseless intimacy.

Devils half-deliver and we
usually live half-satisfied.
But not Christ, He denied the ease,
chose a way of costly waiting,
and then wept bitterly with joy;

for much travail transcends much ease.
And only the path through real life
leads to ascension. My reality,
though full of your sighs, will climax
in true touch and in pure delight.