Just a Kiss
by Gerard Varni
Ishmael? Fuck that punk; call me Judas,
The betrayer whose desirous lips brushed
Anointed flesh, marking it for certain
Resurrection; a wretch whose own hide was
Doomed to self-annihilation before
The birth-slime had even oozed from his lungs.
We are diminished by our desire
For innocence, and we debase those who
Possess it. What does that leave the traitor?
A rope, a tree, coins flung at dying light;
Then, a twitching silhouette splayed against
A bloated reddish moon, with head thrown back,
Mouth agape and eyes bulging toward heaven.
Gerard Varni: i write both fiction and poetry. i recently won the
glimmer train stories award for new writers. my work has appeared in many
print and online journals, including blue moon, cross connect, web del sol,
exquisite corpse, the baltimore review and, happily, the danforth
review.
|