Crucified
By the light,
You stand,
In the dark
Self-impaled,
Pinocchio
A real boy at last
In the
Crucible
Of yourself—
All masks
Cast into
The flames.
Your unlikely
Midwife,
You crush her
Smaller hand
In yours
Holy joy coursing
Through your
Body
The true
Meaning
Of effulgence,
Burning
In your veins,
"I love you."
She lies,
In mercy
To a dying
Man—
You
Forgive her
As you
Give birth
For a few
Precious
Seconds
To the man
You could
Have been.