GreyParty

Poem. Been slaving over. Almost done.

“[God instead of keeping himself hidden, as the upper class usually does, was careless and injudicious enough to become revealed”~ Søren Keirkegaard

Incarnation

jesus sits in the smokiest section of every bar,
elbowing up to beer nuts with a proprietary nod
to both sides: an acknowledgment among men.

between sips He smiles quarters, turning their silence
into singing: jukeboxes skipping between the forces
of family and failure, fortune and fidelity. together

they raise a memorial over the dead soldiers,
whose empty lips loosed theirs, as new wine
in ancient skins. another round finds only His drink

at arm’s length: the other scarred wrist rests
on a shoulder, knowing love, like a scalpel,
like a whisper, can never cut from a distance.

~MEH