The Altar
Tableau: surprised by unexpected glare,
on tables shared with the hermetic dead
displaced to make a sacred space, a pair
of whores; and I, left hand above my head
still on the light cord, right hand on my Colt;
and five GIs to do the ancient act,
their pants pulled down; and pander set to bolt
well-paid, the trickster Eros. They enact
the holy, I stand in aporia:
dare I forbid to those who find a place,
even if a morgue-tent in Korea,
the Aphrodisian rites to celebrate
suspension of their transitory state?
