Gary Edward Geraci

Three Times Fallen

Splintered, dead weight of the wood on my shoulder,

Cutting. The flesh and the muscles and bones of my

Body are beaten and bruised; prodded, pulled, rodded.

Each breath comes wheezing; now squeezing up, lifting and

Breathing against the shards, pierced; press the flesh of my

Face, wrapped and round my skull, contacted, contracted,

Tightened and clamped; the hard ground comes up fast to my

Eyes and I’ve cracked my lips open and bashed my cheek

Broken; the sweat, drool, and blood drip from my chin, my nose running.

 

Spectral chimeras, utopian daydreamers -

Spare his Mother the sight of this spectacle.

Specter accepted, his scepter, his sacrifice.

Man of derision, despised, and mocked:

Humankind’s savior, redeemer, our steadfast rock.

 

-Gary Edward Geraci