The first line of your body is
Monte sacer, wild swan,
The breath blowing on
My face and the second / is
The moment of laughter / is
The pressure of the dawn
As we refuse to get up, go on
With our day before tasting each other / is
            The missionary kissing the feet
            Of the penitent, the Word
            On pressing the desert heat
            Upwards to calling birds
            That jangle and beat
            The crown flat, the jubilant minor third.

Tristan Beiter is a Central-Pennsylvanian student at Swarthmore College studying English Literature and Gender and Sexuality Studies. His poem “Dionysus in London” has appeared in Glittership. When not reading or writing, he is usually crafting absurdities with his boyfriend or yelling about literary theory. Find him on Twitter at @TristanBeiter.