beauty marks

through the wound in his thigh he saw this new eden
and himself on the cross like some rehearsed crucifixion
but he didn’t bow, not a bit, no, god bless him
he got up and walked as if it never happened
oh, he got up and walked like it never happened

through the wound in her head came crystal-blue oceans
and herself at the head with a baton made of poison
she dove and she swam and she left not a droplet
of blood for the sharks, or whoever else sought it
oh, no blood for the sharks or whoever else sought it

through the hole in his foot old rust sold for silver
a child on the porch with a button and a hammer
he stared at the toe of the nail as it mocked him
his left foot went past where the right foot had got him
oh, his left foot went past where the right had got him

through the hole in her back she saw this new eden
and herself up the pole with the crowd below waving
and she grabbed at a cloud in the shape of a tiara
she missed, and she fell, but she found tomorrow
oh, she missed and she fell but she found tomorrow
 

"the triumph and terror of age"

Christopher Watkins
Denver, CO, USA