Another day get its start
with a quarter lie--

the doctor still convinced

I’m that small boy

he measured that phony

parted head for a tam.

You keep smelling these lilacs

in this lilacless place—

a smell you describe to us

as winterlike, a clearness so

ransacked by light it appears

nearly white, cathedral-born.

I lick chocolate off the inside

of my wrist, discerning

an artery under my tongue.

Sing of His Most Holy Blood.

Lord, I must have at least

another resurrection in me. 

Mark DeCarteret’s work has appeared in numerous publications including AGNI, Atlanta Review, Boxcar Poetry Review, Caliban, Chicago Review, Cream City Review, Conduit, Hotel Amerika, Mangrove, Phoebe, Poetry East, Quick Fiction, Salt Hil, and 3rd bed, as well as the anthologies American Poetry: The Next Generation (Carnegie Mellon Press), Thus Spake the Corpse:  An Exquisite Corpse Reader 1988-1998 (Black Sparrow Press) and Under the Legislature of Stars: 62 New Hampshire Poets (Oyster River Press) which he also co-edited.    

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