Gargoyle

Abstract

Gargoyle Bruce Bond (bio) Do not pity this face, the single hornaching through the skin, these crude earslarge as hands, all meat and nerve, but bornof stone, netted in a web of scars. Do not pity these cheeks stuffed with teeth,eyes wide with appetite, a look so oldit wears something of the gore of birth,choking on air, spitting out the world. It gets old, the strut of birds in their filth,this hat of wings, the boredom and the glory,these days between heaven and the earthit batters, the hiss of wind, the rain, the glare. And yes, I think of jumping now and then.Why not? Why curl the talons of my stare,high above the crawl of traffic, each mana child beneath the great cathedral door? If I can never enter, so much the better.Spite them, the hags in the choir, their plateof crumbs, the vanishings of smoke and prayer.Spite the little creatures at the gate. Some look to me as if I were the darlingof a lesser sin, the lance that drainsthe boil, the curse that cures. Spite everythingthat would feed me, heal me, take me in. I may be small, but I can see forever.At my feet the morning sun sets fire [End Page 373] to the rose. Look up and I am theresnug as a brick, a fly in the snare of the vast design. Pity these walls,if you must, the panic of the bells.In the flower of things, I am the thorn.Everything I prick begins to crown. [End Page 374] Bruce Bond Bruce Bond's most recent collections of poetry include Peal (Etruscan, 2009), Blind Rain (LSU, 2008), Cinder (Etruscan, 2003), The Throats of Narcissus (U. of Arkansas, 2001), and Radiography (BOA, 1997). His poetry has appeared in Best American Poetry, The Southern Review, The Virginia Quarterly Review, The Georgia Review, The New Republic, The Gettysburg Review, and many other journals. Presently he is a Regents Professor of English at the University of North Texas and Poetry Editor for American Literary Review. Copyright © 2010 Johns Hopkins University Press