22. Crimson Changes People

DID I see a crucifix in your eyes

and nails and Roman soldiers

and a dusk Golgotha?

Did I see Mary, the changed woman,

washing the feet of all men,

clean as new grass

when the old grass burns?

Did I see moths in your eyes, lost moths,

with a flutter of wings that meant:

we can never come again.

Did I see No Man’s Land in your eyes

and men with lost faces, lost loves,

and you among the stubs crying?

Did I see you in the red death jazz of war

losing moths among lost faces,

speaking to the stubs who asked you

to speak of songs and God and dancing,

of bananas, northern lights or Jesus,

any hummingbird of thought whatever

flying away from the red death jazz of war?

Did I see your hand make a useless gesture

trying to say with a code of five fingers

something the tongue only stutters?

did I see a dusk Golgotha?