Two Angels Torturing a Soul
Deny nothing. Say yes to the whole of the earth.
Concede us the aura of starlight in alleyways
Where nightsticks come down. The burnished leather belts
Are heavy with metal: bright steel and blue-black steel,
Handcuffs, badges, whistles, Smith & Wessons.
Spill everything. Grant it the simple dignity of a name.
On the assembly lines of the surgical arenas
They are holding nothing back. In the confessional booths
Of the CAT scan, they are revealing all they know.
Forget your justifications. What is memory to you?
Truths are projected in cobalt. There is laying on of hands.
You imagine your story as the quick sapphire skin
A blue racer looped and left in Möbius coils under the gate,
Immaculate in the clarity of this life’s illumination?
You ought to have seen the mind is the half-life of punishment,
Its cancerous image. You ought to have understood fluorescent light
Splintering off the chromium rails of a hospital bed
Is no alibis for the holy. On the sidewalk in front of a café,
In the museum parking lot, in the ghetto at the end
Of the medulla oblongata, God sets his net to drag his enemies in,
His rope which means protection. Deliver him three times
The life in the body, his perverse awareness.
You ought to have known the son-of-a-bitch was after you.
You are what he dreams when he dreams of heaven.