Tuesday, August 26, 2008


by Kai Lossgott

what ails me
what grieves me
bereave me the place where once a person stood

I saw Jesus and
the summer child light up
on every street corner in Seapoint
a legion of mute sentinels extinguished at dawn
calling from invisible phone booths
their farewell into the passing cars
a number not too high and not too low

just a second ago past my window
in the guise of a boy with a beard
standing too steadily on that corner
like the trees who know of too many
boys for sale ago, and the ones
who don't come back, and how much that cost
Jesus at sixteen with dreadlocks
how many leaves would you trade
to let strangers
touch you in that way
to play saviour to the night
all done up like a wise man
a wild man, a saint searching for saviours
Tomorrow in the day
you will be gone, and what has taken root within you
communing with the dark and silence underground

And you with your stockings ripped and torn
the crown of the witness
platinum blonde upon your head
like the may maiden the christians burnt
or the christians who were made holy
burnt by others
Saint of these latter days
with your cheeks of blood
you too facing the street
blunt and arms dangling by your side
dandelion gushing white and reverent
I don't recognise you here
guarding the block
You have no curfew. Noone knows
your tiny feet stand guard here tonight
tomorrow in the second aisle by the cashier
heavy with my tinned food and frozen fish
I won't recognise you,
or wonder how it is you live

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