h.b.irwin

see something, say something

In Uncategorized on May 15, 2012 at 5:13 am

My brother returned

having seen the same

spectacle: a man

dressed in a policeman’s uniform

washing his hands while

grinding his nails and

washing his hand

then soaping up

again. Again

 

we saw him

in the parking lot,

hands stuffed in his pockets

slouching, looking

at the ground,

alone. In that night’s rain,

it was not until a young woman passed

us by that I saw it clearly–

Pontus Pilot right there in Texas

washing off the blood of some lamb.

 

He waited till she was 9 steps off

then turned to follow her

silently into

what I can only recall

as the enormous darkness

that rolls behind a dream.

 

My brother and I ate

our suspicions that night

so that we might find ourselves

later rubbing hands and telling,

“Hell is murky, soldier,

a damned spot to wade.”

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