On Circumcision's evening
The night's orbs bleed
On the compass line
With violence against
Their impetus to fall into one,
The dread inevitable recall
Written before all time.
The air suffused with a force
Gnawing at my bowels
- At our cycle's close -
With my eyes upturned to see
The foreshadow of the final meridian.
There I saw the foreskin of Christ
Burning a hole in the sky,
Around which thousands of angel hosts
Hymn and circumambulate.
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