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Zero Hour

Chris Shillock
Minneapolis, Minnesota

Careening amphetamine dawn -
cell phone stalkers
mob the streets
and there's shelter in your temple
where the air is light and the light
writhes in clenched glass teeth,
and the choir's singing
a hymn by Leonard Cohen.
There's sanctuary in your body;
the rising light's a sacrifice
to your long golden hair.
Are you surprised that I wrote you this poem?
Now the clock has stopped,
the pale mob transfixed.
The future isn't born yet;
the past will not die.
Is any of this real,
or just that song by Leonard Cohen?
Your knife blade is nervous now;
mercy gleams metallic
when I kneel for the host.
Your trigger finger's twitches
while I'm kissing the old scars
your lovers left behind.
Are you a little frightened
that I raised you this altar now?
Are you surprised
that I made it of gold?

http://www.myspace.com/christophershillocktabathapredovich 
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