‘Verily I say unto you, they have their reward’
Matt 6.2
The gratification of being well regarded
is my reward.
My reward is a stone
that pulls me down.
I must get rid
of my reward.
The eyes of men
are so many knives
cutting me up; under their gaze
I become
Legion. I pass like a whore
from one to the other
like so many pieces
of a smashed mirror.
Lusting after praise,
avaricious of praise,
proud of praise,
gluttonous for praise,
envious of praise,
angry at being disregarded and soon
falling into apathy.
That is how the days
pass; to flee
from the snare, I must be
ridiculous,
like Lazarus
lying at the rich man’s gate.
I must climb under
my reward, then, free
of other men’s eyes
I can see
objectively.
I can see the angels
outside the brothels
and round the walls
of the churches the devils
and in the depths
of winter, dressed
only in rags, lying
in the gutter I can taste
the fruits of Paradise.
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