¹imagine peter, not nodding
over his palms that dawn,
but praying the vindictive
               ²prayers of the righteous,
drawing enough testosterone
up from his balls to light
               ³all the dew in the garden
afire, more than enough
to keep him awake, enough
               ⁴even to make him slap
judas’s silvery lips before
they could kiss the sacrifice,
               ⁵causing chaos among the spear-
bearing romans : imagine
him alive with the fury
               ⁶of love and utterly blind
to the lacerated look on his
friend-of-friends’ face, denying
               ⁷nothing, not his name, not
his faith, not his rage, hurling
affirmations at his inquisitors—
               ⁸yes, i am the man! : this peter,
all flesh and flood, imagine
him murderously steadfast,
               ⁹less rock than stone, a self-
made weapon, still weeping
at the cock’s crow, every pre-
               ¹⁰diction re-writing itself anew
in his woeful image : human if
he did and human if he didn’t.