POEMS
Pizza
John, his name was John.
His Christian name.
Named after the apostle,
To whom Jesus entrusted
the care of his mother
from the cross
rather than his
half-
brothers
sons of men.
(since I wrote to you last)
I heard the Korean priest
Muted
through the medical mask
the familiar strains
of the Lord’s prayer
And the one
about courage
when travelling
through the valley
of the shadow of
Death
I was thinking
How many times
had I resolved a melody
half-heard
by reconstituting
the full body of the
Apparition of the text
because through
context and hearing
the outlines of its
Limbs
I knew what it was
when it was whole
after the priest
the workers in industrial
jumpers
Closed the cardboard box
curiously marked with arrows
to indicate which way was up
like some casual thing to be delivered
by Grubhub
And they led us
to another room
where the ovens
were
They kept asking the mother
“Would you like to start the fire?”
“Are you sure you won’t like to start the fire?”
I didn’t know it was a thing
In life
we might be lucky enough
to ride different trains
but in death
we are reduced
to ash
in the same ovens
When surrounded by Akechi’s men
Nobunaga kept
his dignity
through seppuku
and entrusted his
most loyal retainer
Ranmaru
to swiftly
behead him
with a singular
masterful
Stroke
then set the Honnō-ji temple
aflame
so Akechi’s men
wouldn’t be able to
capture his decapitated
head
And that’s why
Jesus asked John
and the men in
industrial jumpers
Asked the
Mother