SERAPHIM INFECTUS
BY MICHAEL MEYERHOFER

Now we have come to the waters --
the still soft waves, both of us undressed,
laid before the other

our breaks, the fissures showing
the busted racks which must be joined
in time, that between us

the mortar of flesh and tongue --
this salt we've boiled -- may raise
from bone and ash the glory,

the great beast, like an angel
with four wings -- four pressing thighs
and the hearts between them.