Without a Crucifix

I say "great doubt" is of little consequence,
my "trust" hides in certain places-
plastic soldiers beneath the bed
in spools of dust. This war is mine.

"Absolute death" I think is living
in a sterile world. The body of a woman
becomes unrecognizable, neglected
without a crucifix to pin it to.

To each man I give an apple,
an addiction, the gorgeous adjective
"radiant"... a hundred years
this mysterious garden

grows its fruits, although,
I'm fairly sure of winter.