Corpus Christi

if nivellus’ master saw his Master now

would he weep that the wooden body of Christ

had been ravaged by time?

pale polychrome worn off

exposing weather-split richness of oak

like ravaged skin giving way to raw muscle

despite spikes withdrawn from hands still He hangs

the shadow of angel wings cast behind Him

on interrupting ash-rose of wall

His crown crumbles, odd contrast to vibrant red blood seemingly just coagulated

sinews stretch to point of snapping

for five centuries anguished eyes in gaunt face have been sealed shut

is this how He looked two millenia past?

master, your Christ is more beautiful today in His weathered agony

than you could ever have intended

did you forget the empty grave?