Two Men Standing
(blood and ashes)
There was a third man, a first man, a failed first, a forever failing first. You’ll find him in the blank space to my right, on that pedestal of dirty laundry. He’s gone, was rubbed out, was never there, never born but killed over and over. You killed him, who made me. Are you beginning to get your eyes yet? Can you see the emerging man to my left? Do you see what he has, what he lacks? It’s a miracle he can stand. Note, however, he is anchored to my foot. His hand, Ah, his hand! Pink, infantile! He does not need finishing. No man does. We do not ask to be finished. We only ask, I ask, to be given the hands to do the proper job of a man. I ask you, no, I demand it of you, whose eyes reflect mine.