Love song in which I am ceremoniously flogged by a high and sassy abbot
Once again I am stuck
in someone else’s version
of retribution, my cassock lifted
for the whole village to delight in.
I never know how I get into
Once could say
I’m predisposed, eager to take a beating.
It must be my heretical ass—
my friend tells me they’re sure
that I’m a satyr, always prancing
around the abyss with my fiasco
of wine. I feel certain mythology
is out to get me,
just look at how lyrical all of this is,
like the tragedy of troubadours,
an allegory that goes the distance.
Why else would my legs
be so strong? With each strike
I am more resilient
and ready for the next.
When I hobble away
it will be with knowing
that I loved both because and despite.
There is no punishment for the wicked.
Just watch how easily I reason with pain.
Just watch me shed this body like a wet robe.
Love song as neuroses
Because when I enter another’s body
I do not leave my own.
Because all information seems a testimony
of inscrutable conclusion.
Because even the red light on the brownstones
Because the obsession with eternity
Because this used to be
Because it turns out
imagination is limited.
Because a monk’s holy sepulcher
is also a soldier’s latrine.
Because, don’t look at me, I’ve just awoken,
my eyes like marigolds
my thoughts in spondees,
my breath like durian.
I leverage my body for all of its capital.
I load my moribund bounty
into my backpack and walk
the railing of the FDR.
Because I am my sexiest
Because I love you even though
I don’t know you.
Because I would ruin my life
for so much less.