I have been crucified in a hundred different ways,
Like Christ head up, Like Peter, feet on top,
That perpendicular junction where wood traversed wood
Was where I stood, telling the world,
That the junction that took the most time,
To die a natural death was a woman.
She was called Eleanor. I dreamt
Of a champagne supernova, her body striking me,
My heart echoing like a bell, the clapper rocking away,
Every cell applauding, how little it took,
For me to die inside of her, in the city of lights.
The resurrection of the Vitruvian man,
The ideal proportion of man to woman.
Love is, holding your heart like a ringing bell,
Telling you to come to church, to the Eucharist,
To break your flesh, pour your wine,
A woman, who could only take a feeble heart
And give it resonance. I was FDR and she stood by me,
Not as a lover, but only a friend in need.
A woman, who was more French,
Than the Eiffel Tower, who tapped and drained the sap
From inside of me, laid me down softly, like a baby to a cot,
A baby who could never forget the breast that fed him,
And an enclosure beneath. How little I knew that my prolonged virginity
Was hardly a handicap, only hope. The treason,
I committed against my body, how every cell in my body,
Stood aching for a woman, and lingered through punity,
Until I discovered my parole.
The mutiny of a moment, when you become free of someone,
My polio heart, recovered to love another,
Who cured me of my paralysis,
I stood vindicated, absolved of my own dilemma, the long haul
Stood as implicit as anything I’ve known before.
I plunged headlong. The deep end was deeper,
My lips stood in silence, reshaped
By another pair of lips, to a journey, that would not
Cripple me, only empower. Another woman’s heart,
Was my vaccine, against a crippling disease.
I was now, no longer FDR, only Theodore,
My flesh was now going forward, all at once,
And nothing, was left behind. I was cured of my illness.
A vaccine that gifted me with rapture,
From a legacy of rupture, how I, until then,
Held a fragmented glass heart, that developed
Vessel and muscle, and reprogrammed
To skip a beat, every time one woman entered
My path of sight; down a red carpet,
Where once, a heart bled.