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.