Fanatic

Into the room’s dark gestures
The skin invites itself again
Into the broken light
The reckless eye zeroes in 
Moving toward the window
Open to the moon
Its errant beauty caught
In the tree’s calligraphy
This tree where the hanged
Man, our saviour, lives
O bitter words uprooted
From the heart’s sweet tongue
Carried by the wind’s teeth
Biting through the stars
To beyond the sky
To the ear of God, I
Was such a fanatic once
You still are, her voice breaks in
The mirror cracks, blood springs
From the hands and feet
You still are, she says
Wrapping my trembling life
Like a homeless street person
In the blanket of her phrase
A fanatic of the moment

by Daniel Thompson