POEMS FOR THE SAINTS

 SAINT SEBASTIAN

To be one who pulls—

a cold exhale, a pierced gift

to caress the flesh 

of an unveiled body—robe

with silks, unbind feet and mourn. 

SAINT HIPPOLYTUS 

He does not dwell in

the arse of a brown stallion

nor pious prayers

of those not coiled—trapped in

a spring, singing to silence. 

SAINT GEORGE 

The salvation of

a spear, seats Death’s space     afar

to drink the warm milk—

beneath garments of a lass

lives temporality—lives me. 

SAINT JOAN 

To be a shadow

becloud the night’s bereavement

black bitterness bites 

one filled with absurdity 

a hand veils one filled with shame.