A Poem for Candlemas 2013 by Todd Swift

Disorders of Personality

However it happened it had to
on Candlemas, when candles lit

the glass all down the night avenue
where I for so long dissolving sought

a passport photo sort of identity to becalm
the sense of drift over fist, some alarm;

the booth cracked to take my image in.
Spit out fluency of selfhood, when swallowing

purification of the mother.  Christ, a child
bled for ceremony so soon after Christmas.

A wick’s spatter approximates bloodletting.
All good is done despite what else we do.

To calorie count the evil, you’re over
your daily limit: as each knows truly

in their bed and when passing a hand through
the gap in his chest: the air huffing in over out.

- new poem by Todd Swift
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