White-faced
face peeled, skin on asphalt,
defaulted in this holy of holies
rip the curtain,
cross the altar,
sacrifice the scarred,
keep Caesar out, You have no place here,
Heaven, iconically, confesses to keep going despite this
blizzard whipped, blinding snow.
the warm tropical water scrapes the scales
needling another pilgrim to confess.
Author Note: sometimes where Earth and Heaven meet, it feels like there's Hell to pay
About the author
I live with my wife, an artist, in Indianapolis. Besides poetry, I like to take photographs, read books, travel overseas, and listen to news/political podcasts, college lectures and classic literature. You can read about my approach to poetry on my poetics page. To stay in touch, follow me on Twitter or connect on a variety of other social networks.
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