The Beginning is the End
My soul rolled out to meet him like a scroll
For Christ to write on with his blood. A slack
Remainder tried to be unlike a hole.
To lift one’s wrists after a heart attack
Is challenging. He lifted both his wrists.
That tells you something. They had veins in them.
I felt like my own chest was filled with fists.
I looked around to find Christ’s teasing hem
But it was useless. Some believe a gate
Will lead to somewhere. I learned that is not
The case. Circumstances tend to castrate.
The spirit learns that love exists to clot.
..The man I loved had one son and three wives.
….The man and son both died in separate lives.
~ Phillip Whidden