Crucifixion by J. Kirk Richards. Used by permission of the artist.
On Crucifixion by J. Kirk Richards
Some seduction, this—flesh stripped of sweat,
blood, breath, soul; his body gone limp at the crux
of God’s mystery, shipped home C.O.D.
in a crate stamped “Fragile,” and pinned
to the threshold of paradox like a sack spit
by vespers into the neighbor’s vining buds.
From here, leaf chatter and whisper of plastic
sound like questions shedding their skin:
When God cross-dresses in death, does
the universe blush? Does it worship
the crimson-stained grain of his skin,
the shadow of his ribs? Does it praise
his left breast until milk warms the tongue
like redemption? Like silence? Like blasphemy?
Tyler Chadwick is a doctoral candidate in English and the Teaching of English at Idaho State University and his poems have been published in various journals: Dialogue, Metaphor, Irreantum, Salome, Black Rock & Sage, Wilderness Interface Zone, and Victorian Violet Press Poetry Journal. In 2009 he received the Ford Swetnam Poetry Prize and in 2010 he was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. He’s also the editor of Fire in the Pasture: Twenty-first Century Mormon Poets.
I love the painting and how the imagery of the poem complements it so beautifully.
Great poem.
I’m trying to get a handle on this imagery: “threshold of paradox like a sack spit
by vespers into the neighbor’s vining buds.” Help?
I won’t say much by way of interpretation, Brent, because I don’t want to privilege any one reading of my poems, but I will say this: consider the simile in its entirety: “his body . . . pinned to the threshold of paradox like a sack spit by vespers into the neighbor’s vining buds.”
Thanks, it works for me now–my problem was that I was reading the word “spit” as “split”. . .
It’s a great simile, i really like it.
I really enjoyed the poem.
I was hung up on “sack” for awhile, then thought of the expression “bag of bones” and it makes more sense to me know. I love the idea of his body being “spit like vespers.” That’s absolutely beautiful!
It’s cool to grapple with the idea of the embodiment of God this way. When he is crucified in all the goriness that human flesh entails, it becomes a mystery and a paradox. It is almost spit into our faces (or into the neighbor’s tidy garden)– and what do we do with it then? Become offended? Or try to reconcile, accept, or even embrace the horror of it all? Are you seduced by the crucifixion of a God, or would it be blasphemy to do so?
God cross-dressing in death. Hm. Cool image.