Self Portrait as Caravaggio as the Head of Goliath

The earth was without form, & void;

& darkness was on the face of the deep.

& you said, let there be light: & there was light & shadow

& you said, let there be Mary; & there was your woman Fillide.

& you said, let Fillide be Mary then; & you painted her

for the Carmelites. & the Carmelites said, send us a better one,

because Fillide was a prostitute, because

her legs were bare, because she was dying

belly up on a table like a prostitute woman.

& you said, let this Mary be mine only then;

& then there was her pimp. & you said, let this man

have no manhood; & you took his penis. & you said,

whoops; & you took his life.

& you were to be beheaded;

an eye for an eye, a head

for a penis, & accidentally

a head.

You did not want to die; you were hiding

in Naples. You said, let there be David;

& there was David. You said, let there be Goliath;

& there was your head.

Your head spoke. It said not

look, I’ll do it myself, but:

look what they’ll do, please

help me, please stop them.

If ever you did want to die,

it was not like yearning

for the darkness

on the face of the deep,

but only like saying, look how beautiful David looks,

sorrow-gazing

on what he’s done.