made, not begotten

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begotten, not made

you arrived in
a short circuit
of time that had
occupied the place
beneath the lines
of my face. my
teeth had grown
whiter and thinner 
in your disappearing 
half-life.
the neatness of
your cuticles
disarmed my pupils
into narrowing.
a gun held 
to the temple
ignites circles
of candles.
inhales taste loudly 
of hasty justifications in
the form of prayer.
our father, 
who artfully wore
a silk necktie 
over the hollow of his throat,
knew when to come
and when to be done.
let’s go let’s go let’s
go now into the world 
with pieces 
of imprinted love 
remembered
with fingers to forehead.
punishment is
scar tissue rolled between
thumb and pointer
while begging for
time to pass and
stay the same in
a single pulse
of blood.
alleluia, alleluia.
the rent check has cleared.
therefore let us
keep the feast.
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