Warren L. Molton

Christ lives in my unchosen life, resident
In the upright ashes of these brittle bones,
Mapping blood routes and checking airways,
Catching the breaking news in my nerves,

It was an overcast late autumn day
With a boisterous wind ripping away last leaves
From already wintering trees to play
A rackety childhood game we called Bank-n-Thieves.

I am imagining the soldier
who drove the nails,
clambering around or across
the body, straddling and stretching
to reach the hands,
trying to avoid seeing
the face and eyes,...

If God is your answer to every question,
   eternal and absolute
   once-and-for-all kind of answer,
   without a doubt,...