90/L27 – Massage


Christ the man succumbs
to hands upon his body.
Gentle pressure comes
with violence. Muscles
tensed and knotted quaver
against the bone, cry out.
He knows himself as a sapling
shaken by wind.
In softened dark,
amidst the brethren
and their quieting canting,
alone again. Smell of cedar.
His body comes slowly back,
all the broken bits aligning.
So many parts
gone so horribly wrong
to make him whole.

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