Even Centurions Can Be Saved

February 1st, 2019

Maybe not in those heated moments of duty,
when they tense to their hips, hand on sword, eyes set like unseeing stone. That’s when the training conditioning really kicks in & that devil of the past speaks strait past the brain in short, guttural sentences.

They have no ears; they have no eyes
but feeling always remains, & memory’s tendrils grow more verdant in space.

When something is missing, they will go looking — where was that peace? What were those neighborly words? How do I speak more kindly? Are there any good people left?

Then into space, the lonely soul goes wandering, and, tired of tension, can set aside that constant. Relief.

I absorb no disproportionate toxin but pass it through to one more pure than I — this is the principle of diffusion.

What was hetero becomes homogeneous — the double-x centurion, the cat-fighting couple, the shrill “bitch” paradoxes multiply as transmutation reaches its zenith — like the stretch
of rever
sing
a
garment.

The skin has shrunk; there will be tears
before there is healing.

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