In your room
above the noisy alley
in the valley
of Cholon,

where the voices of poverty
filled my ears
and nostrils
with the struggle
of refugees...!

Where I stared
across midnight's rooftops 
at distant flares,
and sudden flashes of light...

heard rumbling war come closer,

I held you!

...in the prayer of giving flesh,
joined,
not by love,
...but a desire to live,

that drew us into the scented temple
of our passion
beneath  the sad Jesus
on his Cross
above the bed.

Jesus,
who defined the agony to come
within your city,
your country,

...to a beautiful Chinese
Catholic
girl..,

and I wept in my heart

...as your curved gift
fanned our naked fire.

A moment’s indifference to a mad
world,
... your lips falling upon me,

smothering me
in waist length black hair.

Naked lust and hot tears,
and the presence of Death
all around,

... making it, just
pain and war,
making it.

You and I,

…making it all
go away.

© CALIBER

from CMS/cy 90 or so/
revised 2/16/04