So Much to Begin

by Linda Taylor Issue: Spring 2015
Men have a tender sense that sees
                      with their bodies, the only

light.  Like the one who had the face
                      of Jesus tattooed on his back.  

And when he’s just come home
                      with someone, put a record

on to dance—blues, Billie Holiday—
                      and burned the lights all off—

the woman’s voice is his, swimming
                      in the dark skin, the face

of Jesus, moving like water through
                      his muscles and shirt.

The recorded piano sound lights
                      the sky where a moon

abandons fireflies, and the man joins
                      their world of blindness

that sees with wings and the dark
                      of hands. As in

the photograph that sat on his
                      dresser for twenty years,

his only now seeing the loving
                      look from a dead man there—

his father—standing by some bare
                      trees, holding his last son.