Sometimes we meet another who “sees” straight through all our bullshit.


And when His eyes

pierced me

and my melancholy cloak

of regret


At my side

the legion

of all my little deaths

now claustrophobic, pressing


Each razor slice

of my heart

cut deep by my own will,

they seeped a tear


The gauze of pretence

those secrets dressed

the unstitched wounds

naked, stark and naked


And my ghosts

walk ever with me

my compadres

my fiends and spectres


Not enough soap

nor water

to be clean again

not ever


What exorcism

might yet banish

these phantoms

of word and deed?


And His eyes said

love only love

and he passed to me

a single key


Writ thereupon

a single word

and in gold;