by Sarah D’Stair
Artwork by Alexa Gaffaney
One sees death
for the first time
as bees glaze
across the window pane,
the glass framing
the picture like Giotto
framed the
descent into hell,
bodies contorted
in perfectly parabolic
brushstrokes while
demon beasts lick
genitals
with their tails.
Here
the dizzied vermin body
begs from one branch
to the next, his canvas
oversaturated,
yellowed
for too much green,
branches mangled parabola
like Giotto’s bodies as they
swell into each other
while below, an upstart wren
nicks her beak responsibly
into the soil
even as her birdmates
lift away, off to seek
another pleasure.
And that large blot
of brownblack
behind the slight
flecked leaves?
One can make out
a red-tailed hawk,
the solitary shifting eye.
The chase lasts only a moment.
The bright denizens
of that lonely place watch
the small body clawed,
flayed alive, flesh tendrilled.
End scene. And I wonder,
is there a martyr in this
painted mystery play?