Christopher Iacono


You damn us to tongues

of flame lapping

of concrete and gold.


You damn everything,

yet you’re no priest,

no god; just a martyr


handing us his own nails,

his own cross, and a

bloody crown of thorns


stolen from those kissing

your feet, lips wet with

drops of ink black oil


erupting into carpets of

fire for you to march down.

And when you’re done, only


your charred skin will

remain, but at least you’ll

leave us with something.


Christopher Iacono lives with his wife and son in Massachusetts. He has been published in Zetetic: A Record of Unusual Inquiry, Dirty Chai, Pidgeonholes, among others. You can find him on Twitter (@ciacono1973) and Instagram (@ciacono761).