Images of the Shroud
I stay up late at night
searching for high-resolution
images of the Shroud of Turin
weighing the evidence
and different theories.
I can see the blood
on his arms, ringing round
the bicep and shoulders,
running like tattoos, the wound
on the hand, and those
on the feet, ribcage, and brow.
They trace a body on the cloth,
the relic of a crux connecting
earth to heaven, there
to issue blood and water
on the reaching stalks
of Roman spears.
If the Messiah walked
across my living room,
and if he carried with him
these same proofs,
I would watch. I would
certainly set down my coffee
and follow him around the corner,
and lock the door after him,
and return to my work, looking
to see what I could find
about the Virgin’s footsteps
in Portugal, and I would consider
writing about my experience
before I turned in.