For the war
dead. A field of white
crosses. Exploded picket
fences. Names
when we’ve run out of numbers.
*
Suffering has these details.
A fractal cross crossed
and re-crossed at all extensions.
A bramble of nerve ends
upon nerve ends burning
beneath a magnifying lens.
*
Flesh aligned to the four
directions. The compass
crown of thorns. Points
not outwards but in. To pin
the body to the brain.
*
Pulled and nailed taut.
To catch the wind. Until
The body sags.
Is it time now
to set sail?
*
Conquest by Sword
and by Cross. One
kills while the other
saves for later.
*
A mechanism. To make marionettes
dance. Clap hands, splinter
and sing. Ascend
heaven with strings.
*
What wager.
One thing to believe
in a god. Another to draw
an X over it.
*
A plot.
To follow. The body
will carry
the cross that will
carry the body.
*
The legs are broken.
The cross
stays, but the corpse
is collapsible.
*
For all things thought
certain, a god or demon
assigning X’s.
*
The philosopher
bed-ridden
wove X to Y
to swat a fly.
*
The aim is true.
The cross-hair made to fit
like a halo on the hero.
*
When will the world
begin if X
were x?
| 
