The Head of Goliath
David with the Head of Goliath, 1610
And like Caravaggio, I am my own savior
rent by my own hand. Depicted:
A younger version of the painter heeds
his own benevolence, having made lantern
of his older self ’s unbodied head, meaning even
disappointment may light the way—tenderness
bearing the blade, being the blade—though no light
may touch the wholeness of either, faces
halved same-side by darkness, as though the past
bears repeating.
I too have appraised my future and thought, All that time
on my knees, for this?
The position of prayer is also one of power:
giving it away, taking it, taking it back. I am one
with my body despite being of two minds
that this life allows such agency. In the distance,
the kingdom that is my new life expects my old life
to surrender. Watch as I carry back by its crown the proof
that it can be done. My beheaded blood stains a trail
in the sand, unnoticed except by my younger self
who will return to that place to admonish himself
for what he has done and prepare for what he will become.
Phillip B. Williams
Phillip B. Williams is the author of the novel Ours (Viking, 2024), winner of the Prix du Premier Roman Étranger, and the the full-length poetry collections Mutiny (Penguin Poetry, 2021), winner of the American Book Award, and Thief in the Interior (Alice James Books, 2016), winner of the Kate Tufts Discovery Award and a Lambda Literary Award. He is professor of creative writing at Rice University and is on faculty at the Randolph College low-residency MFA. (updated 4/2026)