Always test yourself in case of a sign.
like love in the shortest summer.
two parallel lines: circular, phallic,
beyond the stitching of your skin.
A man’s cock is a gun waiting to be fired
In order to die, we need only to be alive,
as he cocked his gun in the war, the sliding of the shaft
Just watch how the scabs turn brown with the leaves—
you’re the hand of God.
of strangers to this hand and dance around His knife,
Now everything reminds me of a loud clock,
leave them to cover the holes.
an autumn hill, a white church at its tip,
Francisco Márquez is a Venezuelan poet living in Brooklyn. He is currently pursuing his MFA in Poetry at NYU. He is a recipient of the John McKay Shaw Academy of American Poets Award from Florida State University. His work can be found in Assaracus, HOOT, and elsewhere.
This poem appeared in Assaracus.