Flesh Wound

You stab a finger at your pork, 
warn me, as always, of trichinosis,
what a sin lockjaw would be, gone –

my words that strut like peacocks
before the tabernacle – my voice
no longer a feral priest –

no miracles by flocks of geese
in the cattails, levitating baby Moses
with my honking.

Wait, no! I remind you trichinosis
is roundworm – nematodes –
fallen angels in the bloodstream.

If I must suffer corruption,
then Lord, let me take
those monkish vows of silence –

barefoot and in sackcloth,
when I step on a rusty nail
of the true cross

I will not cry out.

For Shay’s Word Garden

7 thoughts on “Flesh Wound

  1. Wow. This really gathered momentum from “If I must suffer corruption…” onwards and I am so here for it! And I love how you describe nematodes as “fallen angels in the bloodstream.” 👌🏼

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