Isaac Pickell

FROM THE FIRST SIGHT OF BLOOD

follow with quiet steps / follow two longest fingers wound together / follow
crevices, not yours in memory swabbed

with stiff white cloth politely smooth
linens over cardinal silence

swept the entire cavity / swept away chance refusals / swept
in piles, questionable colors examined.

He sends you
wishing for failure every seventh day. cleansing

inspection lingers on
the wrong prayer
to right god’s promise.


                                    
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