Jake's Flea Market

ask every man for his name

the one who proves
his age by   a historic injury
closed in the palm of his hand

or by an ancient wound   healed
through the heel of his foot

who proves his age by an old
scar speared blindly into the soft
flesh over his hip   by

longinus whose bones   long ago
became the moist dust in a fertile field

the one who proves his age   ask
if he’s come to the end of the world