Alexamenos Worships His God
Alexamenos Worships His God
Zachary Hyde
Alexamenos worships his God. I worship solitary hours, charitied checks given in sympathy and accepted in shame, thrice-watched television programs and half-priced fatty steaks. I worship unread books and reread books and surprisingly-decent dollar-a-slice pizza. I worship her—her friendship, her hair, her breathing, dancing with her as a record spins, as the cats dart through our legs.
Alexamenos worships his God. I worship silence like an unattended altar, silence which signals the absence or sleep of that lurking giant who smells my blood. I worship those moments, when things are sacred and silly, when fee-fi-fo-fum sounds more like a medication than a death-threat.
Alexamenos worships his God, and sometimes I do, too. Not enough to be accused of onolatry. Not enough to warrant the scorn of an ancient graffito. Not enough to lose old friends and not enough to make new ones. Just enough to flee as from a forest fire when I feel those familiar fifel-kin fingers fumbling for my fragile faith, that fiend-mouth frothing to feast upon my fears—to flee to Him and cling like a child to His hand.
Zachary Hyde
Poet & Rare Book Specialist
Zachary is a writer, medievalist, and rare book specialist. His work juxtaposes transcendent mythologies of the past with the more mundane realities of personal experience, creating an unexpected dialogue between the timeless and the everyday. Zachary has lived and worked in the American South, England, and New York City where he is currently based.
Photography by Jon Tyson