Just a Kiss

by gerard varni

Ishmael? fuck that punk; call me judas
The betrayer who's desirous lips brushed 
Anointed flesh, marking it for certain
Resurrection--the wretch whose own hide
Was doomed to self-annihilation before
The birth-slime had even oozed from his lungs. 
We are diminished by our desire 
For innocence, and we debase those who
Possess it. what does that leave the traitor? 
A rope, a tree, coins flung at dying light; 
Then, a twitching silhouette splayed against
A bloated reddish moon, with head thrown back, 
Mouth agape and eyes bulging toward heaven.