The Infamy of Love
The air turned purple, cubicles of flesh
opening into an amphitheater of taunts;
a desert crown, a kingdom of jeers;
the postulator of equivocation mouthing
the infernal alphabet of concessions.
Strewn palms in a field of lilies,
a tau cross emblazoned with light
become slivered shame drug across
stones once bread, the infamy of love--
ruby droplets, weeping canticles,
shattered bones, a bosom ripped
from its frame.
A mother's woe, prophecy's progress
beyond all telling; a veil imprinted
with the pain of ages, a temple within,
a temple without; a black sun rises
and sets at the 9th hour, gamblers' lot;
guilt, the foul odor of shame; clouds
turned to pyre smoke.
Another's burial plot, the place
where death will die no more;
yet the high priests more
In love with death than life--
"The body was stolen," they scowled.
Philip C. Kolin is the Distinguished Professor of English (Emeritus) and Editor Emeritus of the Southern Quarterly at the University of Southern Mississippi. He has published over 40 books, including twelve collections of poetry and chapbooks. Among his most recent titles are Emmett Till in Different States (Third World Press, 2015), Reaching Forever (Poiema Series, Cascade Books, 2019), Delta Tears (Main Street Rag, 2020), Wholly God’s: Poems (Wind and Water Press, 2021), and Americorona: Poems about the Pandemic (Wipf and Stock, 2021).
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