The son of the Allentown butcher
will lead the way
point man on the sweep today
through God’s heavenly green cathedral
Verdant canopy reaching to heaven;
flickering sunlight illuminates
a mottled parrot red and blue
while on the moss a mantis waits.
Her body rises as he kisses her mouth
he knows not where he ends and she begins;
Pistol and stamen
Why am I here carrying a gun
and not with her
where I would rather be
inhaling her scent?
Tread softly lest I become
a clump of earth.
Will the cathedral know
I have passed this way
if I do not bleed
and mix my essence with the ground?
Or will my footprint remain
the calling card of our appointment
this afternoon, just before
the twilight of Apollo
when I will kill or be killed
by the son of a rice farmer.