My friends, we’ll each receive a special steel
prosthesis, and walk upright! We’ll erase
this stupefying cuticle, and feel!
Our fluids will move through us like a kiss,
like a soft light inside our nakedness,
where nothing was but excrement and terror,
made worse by the nice doctors. --Was that us,
that bad child making faces in a mirror,
earning his execution with error upon error?
Let execution come then! Let our necks
like gelatin be severed, quiveringly!
--And then be whole again, as the cool axe
glides through like moonlight slicing through the eye
of a blind man-- and so we shall not die!
Exultingly, as I myself became
your prophesying Baptist, we shall know
each other’s faces, friends, and beyond them
a landscape, and a sky! I see I’m out of time.
Copyright © 2021 edisondupree.com