Friday, March 17, 2017

The Martyrdom




The Martyrdom


One hundred and thirty-six mirrors
whirled around him
like a hurricane, the reflection
of his heart on The Hand
that shapes existence.

Mountains gathered around a line
of blood. Radioactive chain reaction
dripped from his open wounds, and I
despaired. He left me dressed
in shades of purple, aflame,
lowered back into my coffin.

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