Good Friday Poem

 

And on the Friday

Mary Magdalene

Came to her Christ

 

Hung on the cross

A noble bird

Stripped of his plumage

 

His white skin

Ripped his quivering wings

Pinned to the wood

 

And she lay with him

And in his great pain

He made manifest his love

 

And on the next day

The bloody tree

Burst into bud

 

And migrating flocks perched

On the outstretched arms

And there was song.

 

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY

The focus of his own poetry, begun as an experiment in autobiography, is never solipsistic and instead probes his personal life only to bring forth possible metaphysical truths about human existence.

-Andrea Hollander Budy in Resurgence.