Portrait of the Woman as Blood, and: The Blood and the Lamb

He could never trust a thing, he says,That bleeds for seven days and doesn'tDie. Ha. Just a joke, he says. Lighten up.Ha. By this red he tries to read me rightListen. The choirboy builds with each sweetand silvered light of a note a cathedral, hymningthe savior who once, his song says, stood as the boystands now, in a body beneath belled robes.