Saturday, May 26, 2018

Crossing into Canaan by D. A. Powell

Crossing into Canaan

Then there came again and touched me one like the appearance of a man, and he strengthened me—Daniel 10:18

febrile body I woke into: nightsweats, stink of the toil of living: 

where hands could not bear to approach me, the young man fingered 

lay upon me, was himself a cool sponge, drew my perspiration to his lips 
ice-chips he held in his teeth, he pushed small bergs into my mouth 

caressed the skeletal arms I’ve hidden in long sleeves 
kissed neck and chest, belly rotten with pudgy organs, thick-set flesh 

he pressed against me, cock on cock and tongue against tongue 
saw his reflection in my marshy eyes and did not flinch such weakness 

held, sustained by this capable stroke, boatswain of my crossing 

I take the death I’m moored to, announced as a measureless promontory 
and bob in the river like a bloated corpse, blue lips, vacant gaze 

I let the water fill my lungs until they rip their festive piñatas 
because the one who comes to gather me, capricious angel 

has a voice that affirms me rising when this fever abates 


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