2 December 2002 | Vol. 2, No. 4

Review of Crucifixions

by MARLENE LINTZER

like the heavy shoulders

of the sea, how the north

star would be named Melville,

would sit about the broad sky

and polarize

the frothy

ocean, even by

morning, when the veering sun

set truth,

angrily, on the spar,

foremast, the

riggings heavy with tiny birds—

and the sun,

speaking words of newsprint truth,

the dark carved wood

at the side

of the great ship—

and in the deep morning, the polar

star would dip into the sea, it would

submerge, to the green waters,

it would glow the violet marine,

and the

white light

would blink about the pale ropes,

binding the shouldered cross and even

this far away,

the varying leagues of ruptured land

the thorns

sprout among the iron guns, thorns

of dark iron

about the wise sun, who

has in his silent time, seen

one crucifixion and one too

many