When my right eye offendeth me
with incorrigible sight, no
modesty or shame, its antenna
tuned for brazen sin, Matthew says
cast it out and I do.

Whatcha lookin’ for now, right eye?
Right eye, whatcha lookin’ for now?

Right eye rolls in after three, gouged
and red, wide with experience,
dizzy with drink.  My heart relents
like before and I welcome him home.

When my right hand aggrieveth me
with rude restlessness, breaking my
peace to pieces and enabling
five wicked fingers, Matthew says
cut it off and I do.

Whatcha holdin’ on to now, right hand?
Right hand, whatcha holdin’ on to now?

At dawn, right hand’s back streaked with blood
and lipstick, bruised from fighting, drunk
with touch, smug and pleased with himself.
My heart softens and I relent
like I always do.  Welcome home.

When my right foot escapeth me
Matthew has nothing more to say.
Left foot’s the rebel now and leaves
to search for his wayward brother,
sin or no sin, hell or no hell.