Three Times Fallen

Sonnet

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