The Road To Damascus

Born already fucked
as if the poke and stroke
that begat him
had imprinted him

Born a lot of things already
Broken
and maybe evil
Perpetually behind the curve

Grown crooked
Cursed into a bad shape
His better angels locked down
Straining and failing to break out

And proud
So proud of his standing
That their straining was hidden in his ramrod posture
No sign of the struggle within

No one ever touched him
the way the angels could have
He didn’t care
and stood glowering at the doors of the church

Ready to walk in
But needing a moment to pose
before surrendering
to a knowledge

that even if this was not
to be his last stop
it was a step he needed to take
and evil-clothed as he was

he needed to take it dressed
as he had always dressed
Frightened and frightening as always
but mad proud that he had made it here

in spite of having been
born fucked
and perpetually
behind the curve