by Linda Muller

Created on: April 17, 2008

After the waning, half-blue moon

Behind my eye the smokestack appears,
with yellow sky,
a praise-song
and a tear.
Or did my eye lie? Is it a steeple?

Dressed for temple erections
altar boys ring bells during
the Eucharistic prayer.

Remember man that thou
art man.
Remember woman not that you
are woman, but
that you are not a priest.
Compose your own prayers then...

Give them their damned Barabbas.

Stop sinning.
Stop thinking
you are ready to read Mass
from yellow legal pads.
Priests are officials.
Men are priests.

Remember man that thou
art man.
Remember man that thou
art dust.

...and dust androgenizes our
rotted stiffs. Buried, woody
bones lie wormy
in boxes.
The mold and powdery earth
untie our bonds to any organ.
So, drone on your dissonance.
Dominate another art under the eye of the screw.
Turn it twice
more beyond excruciation.

Don't tell me the Catholics killed Christ.
Don't.
The moon waxed Golgotha.
Half the blue waning behind all eyes.

Remember man that you
began in woman.
Remember man your
fetal form. (Once you were female too.)
Remember this and praise our song.

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