The Bodies in the Elevator Arouse You
A cassock among cassocks. Shorn, your dead
hair woven into haircloth. You are a eunuch
against your heart, born to celibacy.
Anoint with oil, comfort the sick,
wearing the vestments of charity;
you are consecrated to the nerveless
idol of compassion. You are fleshly
not like a woman but like a root,
whiling your days in small increments
of devotion, fastidious denials
of ego, which your base soul finds
unbearable without an attentive god.
You are unfortunately an atheist.
You exist to love and will never
be loved. You are divorced, castrated,
exiled from passions. You do not know lust.
The city is your boyfriend;
the pavement is a long grey shoulder.
__________
Written by Alexandra Clark
Private Blog
“Don’t look at me,” 1/26/09
Found by Timothy Green
Los Angeles, CA
Favorite so far.
This is one beautiful poem!!!
And to think, it was in a post about how she couldn’t write anymore:)