“And he took the blind man by the hand and led him out of the town; and when he had spit on his eyes and put his hands upon him, he asked him if he saw aught. And he looked up and said, I see men as trees walking. After that he put his hands again upon his eyes, and made him look up: and he was restored, and saw every man clearly.”

                        —New Testament, Mark, chapter 8, verses 23-25.

Leeches’ drool has therapeutic properties,

recent studies reveal. Mammal tears

can disinfect and soothe wounds, as they

contain a chemical similar to penicillin.

Little surprise then that Christ’s saliva

restored lost sight. Spit, that unglamorous

liquid, kin to snot and lymph, proves

it’s good for more than polishing shoes.

The human lube inside Christ’s mouth

must have been a meld of medicine

and nectar, compellingly carmelly, sweeter

in fragrance and flavor than our most beloved

honeys: buckwheat honey which tastes of raisins,

palate prickling thistle honey, consoling bruised plum

honey, and juniper berry honey which leaves eaters

gin-tipsy. Did Jesus spit onto the blind man’s

eyelids, then gently rub in it with his thumbs,

or did he let spittle drip from his lips right

onto the sightless guy’s trusting, open orbs?

Did the next few blinks burn or sting? I too

was once kissed sloppily on the eyes (by  

a beloved drunk.) Afterward, I could see

deeply into my fellow creatures, for about

three hours. Or so I believed. Alas, the effects

did not last. One cannot remain under

the spell of such caresses every second,

or at least I am too leaky and weak

to hang on to what I felt I knew then—

to remain graced by that kind of second

sight over the long haul. I need my eyes

kissed again from time to time to help me

revisit those blissful visions. So tonight,

if you lie quietly beside me on this old

brocade couch and lick or lightly bite my

tired face, there’s no telling what you might

persuade me to embrace. Rejuice! I mean, rejoice.