“Blonde Beast”

I saw you naked
in a Nazi silhouette,
marching to the orders
of a man you’ve never met.
Tied to the train tracks;
Ruled by the storms;
Patient is the holy man—
who never got warm.
You followed your father
in two careers he left.
One was stitching uniforms;
The other was tossing dice.

“Is it true this dirt is sacred?
Is it true this man was wise?
Is it true ashes will fall on me—
for the rest of my time?”

I saw you naked—
by the early light,
squeezing bloody dishwater
from the socks you wore last night.
You beg forgiveness from the fallen,
while fantasizing their wives.
You are ruined to the marrow,
but redeemed by His light.

You were lost to the riches.
You were lost to the fires.
You were lost to the solitude
of never telling your crimes.

I saw you naked—
bleeding into your wine,
asking your only father—
why he does not have the time.

narrative poem written on 04-17-2010 by: on mattkane.com
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