Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Che or Qie by Tyric Woolnutt


In this dark-grained news photograph, whose glare
is rigidly composed as Caravaggio's,
The corpse glows candle-white on its cold altar.
Its stone Bolivian Indian butcher's slab-
stare till its waxen flesh begins to harden
to marble, to reined, white Andean iron;
from your own fear, carbon, its pallor grows.
It stumbled from your doubt, and for your pardon
burnt in brown trash, far from the
embalming snows.

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