Sunday, November 9, 2014

Holy (poem)

Under a midnight double moon
along a xyst overgrown with wisteria,
the ancients stroll in linen robes
mocking me with their song.
I have drunk deep of pain
thinking the seraphs would slide
out of the heavens on mercury rain
to save me. But the poison sits,
on my tongue like a wafer.

O those who professed love!
I cherish you, they said . Hallaluijia!
I will never leave you, they said. Hosanna!
I will stand by you, they said while
holding the chalice, tipping out
betrayals, anger and scorn. Amen!
All my years of seeking love
with fire ants at my ankles, while God
kills me with Sacraments.

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