Comments about Dennis Hinrichsen
(Shroud of Turin)
They must have bled as they sang,
the needles so quick through
the linen, the frayed mesh,
the silvers must have stung them.
Pinpricks they must have stemmed
with their tongues, unembarrassed,
these brides of Christ-
like sewing patches of sunlight
to water--the ghost in the cloth
laid double across their laps.
These are the hips of Christ,
knees raw bone inking the linen;
this, the stain of a coin
that graced His eye, the image
as yet unpatterned, available only--
should they dare to ...