National Poetry Month 2021

But Judas was not a genius, 

he decided betrayal was worth 30 pieces of silver

a hung jurisdiction, self-inflicted

            a Judas kiss

lands on the nape of my neck, a singular

steeple erects, I am a quiet crucifixion, hung and hanging

on the sentiment that 

we are better

as a fraction 

of

each

other

that we are better

plucking out our eyes,

pushing them inside the vent, 

where

hearts descend 

But Judas was not a genius, 

he was a treasurer

a handler of non-existent things

Love is that which we can’t see

no monetary subsidy 

a heart can’t be bought 

without some agony