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Adam Fitzgerald

Rookie (12/30/1983 / Staten Island, New York)

The Love Song of Saint Sebastian


There would be nothing more to say.
You would love me because I should have strangled you
And because of my infamy;
And I should love you the more because I had mangled you
And because you were no longer beautiful
To anyone but me.

I prated you with platitudes
Insouciant and dry as the sunlight overhead,
You, who stood like a word from my mouth.
After, enamored in the hayfield, we bled
Like a blaze of carrion and taloned shadows,
Cavalries of the South.

Soon, you will gaze as I have gazed.
At a man, something charred we created
Pacing between cypress and pillar.
At a flank from my torso happily fated
And at your own likeness insinuating its arrow—
My own or similar.

There would be nothing more to say.
You would love me because I should have strangled you
And because of my infamy;
And I should love you the more because I had mangled you
And because you were no longer beautiful
To anyone but me.

Submitted: Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Edited: Tuesday, June 29, 2010

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