None Other

                        Matthew 27.50,51

What can still bleed is not yet food.

In the ninth hour Jesus howled

and his wounds’ crusts were opened. Blood

repainted its dried trails. He felt

the scourge’s language on his back

burn for interpretation, final

insight, some empathic look

into the memoirs of the Cruel,

the Other. But none came. His face

dilated, he seemed about to laugh,

then cried again with a loud voice.

The long veil ripped itself in half.