Crucifixus

After Bach’s Mass in B Minor

Dripping toward earth diagonal

chromatic

this blood from flesh

to wood

to soil crimson charcoal rivulets

all of us

inchoate sagging

falling loping toward decay

save me

from the horror of my skin futility of labor

love’s sterility mind, bifurcated pierce me staccato nails with your sulfur shocks resolve me into your opaque octaves

reap my core of being

it is ripe and yearning for your scythe

will we ever be free

from our burdens

years wash away

blanched, hollow as bones of birds sour sky

rice water

we speed down an eternity of highways vast, vapid scalding, sordid toward our demise

all that is left gravel and grease ink of rubber coyote’s crumpled fur

here I stand

at the serrated edge where youth crumbles

resurrect me

with flutes with strings with silver milk

with blossom dust of crape myrtle

won’t you align my soul

with your symmetry

Published in Ekstasis magazine, Winter 2025 digital issue

Rembrandt