-#- B a p t i s m

I rocked by the trains,

sick with the glow of the green-tinged light

wrapping a bandage around my swollen hand,

and I looked for you in the outlines of each

void caught between the blurs

but I couldn’t tell what I was seeing.

I clutched the silver medallion between sticky fingers,

trying to touch a piece of you

underneath all of the blood.

But even the air tasted crimson

and the dust held my breath

and I could only choke on your corpse.

My skin ached and scabbed and froze

while the ground began to shudder, tugging me down,

the screaming of the rails calling to me, calling to me,

the sharp scent of steel in my mouth

and the silver medallion embedded in my scarred palm.

I staggered forward when the beast pulled in,

the cement carving my legs into lace,

so that a glistening red highway rolled out behind me.

I dragged my laughter to the first gleaming black car,

where a man with no face exhaled the chill.

He stood on the steps in dusty black boots,

waiting for me.

I clung to his leg to pull myself up.

He patted my hair so gently, so gently

that I would do anything for him.

His lips pressed against my skull;

His murmur commanded that I lift my hand

and slowly my pale palm floated beside us.

He too brought his hand to our air,

and his fingers were long and smooth with too many joints.

I whimpered, but he shook his head.

And then suddenly

his nails dug into my palm and violently tore the flesh away

so that I screamed and fell to the blood-drenched ground

curling up inside my mind, twirling, twirling,

with my hand cradled like a newborn,

While he stood with no face and no sound,

the silver medallion crushed in his fist.

At last he tucked it away in the folds of his cloak.

He picked me up then,

gathered me to him like a fallen lover

and whispered to me that it was all alright.

Softly he rocked me with blood-soaked hands

while my sobs echoed deadly from the watching walls

and the beast hissed impatiently for freedom.

He climbed the three narrow steps to the dark,

while I lay in his arms

as you once laid in mine,

and ever shall, by the weight in my mind.

In the car there were rows and rows of seats, shining like night,

but he lowered me to the floor

which was hard and cool and unafraid.

For a moment, his long, bent fingers

traced empty spirals in my hair

falling to silence my pleading lips.

Then abruptly, he straightened

and he was facing away from me.

I saw him deposit the silver medallion

in a small iron cup that hung near the door,

and then he was gone, pale fingers, no face,

and my soul was sealed.

As the beast groaned and thrashed beneath me,

I reached out one last time.

My hand seemed to glow in the pulsing black cavern.

The scarlet-streaked bandages dangled against my face

and the mouth in my palm spoke no more.

But if I looked long enough, if I looked hard enough

I could see what I thought might have been the man’s face

in my palm.

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