Where Two Things Intersect, a Cross Is
By Kenneth Godoy
Where two things intersect, a cross is,
like the cross between silence and light,
the cross of noise into words into any meaning.
I am a cross of skin and awareness.
A cross calls the void to recognition.
Memories cross on memories to reveal existence.
Self-validation and desire seek their own, become a silver
dopamine rush, become a tiny bird crossing the wind.
I look to the cross. Standing where two things meet,
his hands reach outwards wrapping around the cross so tightly,
Blood and sweat spills out like glue. I wonder if all things cross,
already so tenebrous and fragile, that only he holds them together.
Kenneth Godoy is a poet and photographer.
Photography by Kenneth Godoy