Good Friday was the day it all began

And imagine the horror of seeing your teacher fucked with nails.

Because that's the way it really is, al la Irigary: Some penetrative action,

The kind of sublime rim-job of the whip.
And it should be pornographic, too, because I'm crying as I write this

and hoping Dwarkin understands that the patriarchical fucker whom she hates

Is somehow at his best before he knows his fate

before the age of 30 in other words,

before he receives a call or performs a miracle (in an attempt the exegesis of my youth points out

to show his doubting mother what he'll do)

and turns the water into wine (probably grape juice we're told)

And I am found or unfound in exactly the same way that

Jesus was fucked to the cross with nails.