In Mirrors

       in rooms
men smoke
       skin and bone
Jesus measures            the cracks

They limp down iron steps
       past garbage
look west            east
       dress up

Footfalls jar the track
       vines trip

This transept            must be cut
       from shoulders
       no neon            no stage

Within midnight
the flicker of one kerosene lamp

~ ~ ~

I've seen nomads in the desert
who'll cut you down
like cactus
for water
and crooks and the mad
who'll try your door to open
and steal your eyes
put smoke in your brain
break you like charred paper
and you cry out to the sky
to please, this time,
don't let it just be me

You look to the eyes of strangers
Chattering children play
share their sweets
Will they smell the blood

~ ~ ~