Chapter 4

Near dawn, the harbor looks bleak, and

his

echoing footfalls echo the empty death inside

him.

* * * *

Sewer Rat

Down here it is always dark.

Murk floats about our legs, and when it

rains,

a sound we hear drumming above us,

the waters rise to our waists

and we must climb on subterranean ledges

for fear of drowning.

Red ochre sweeps by on a stream of sludge

and I sneak away from those who’d keep me

below.

I follow the sound of trickling water to its

source,

a secret place of my own design that looks

out

on the world above. Darkness not confined

by concrete like ours—it’s vast,

limitless,

lighted with tiny stars set into the

night

faceted jewels

that sparkle in the sky

to point out the way.

Reaching through the grating,

into their darkness,

I plunge my hands.

* * * *crucifixion

the first nail doesn’t hurt

that much

it’s the last nail

that’s the killer.

* * * *

You asked if I would.

I laughed—why not?

It would be an adventure.

You asked if I could.