Poem 148

sunday

I don’t shy away from silence
we’re different that way… not better
just different. I wouldn’t dare imagine
what bright white you’re hearing
outthere allalone, with your hands
pressed together—little walls
around a universe just small enough
to understand—I am surely mistaken.

We’re different that way, different enough
to quietly agree on smaller things: weather
changes and fresh cut blooms are best
when we are alone in silence I can hear
the unfolding of infinite petals, each
takes a small insignificant breath before
becoming something actual. You hear
words-not-real-words-the-words-of god.

I don’t have ears for god.
We’re different that way.

Not better, just different… I’m glad.

—ECW

Poem 7 Revised

First and Seventh

To the pantry with irreverence I said:
Give us this day our daily bread
Then thinking of my mother, with daily
Sons and daughters; wines and waters
Regretted…

But… after a while, when
My body ate the body was
A body forsaking the body
I contemplated a diet of grape juice
And toast…

Nearly sufficient until reminded
That the symbolism is cannibalism
And sacrilege only matters on Sunday
So all week I can borrow holiness unless
–shit– it’s Sunday.

Some Sundays taste like bread and wine,
Others like bacon and eggs. I’m not
Apprehensive over divine stovetop intervention
When it comes to breakfast at three…

But maybe I should be.

 

Poem 7 EditedPoem 7 Original

Poem 7

First and Seventh
 
To the pantry with irreverence I said
Give us this day our daily bread
Then thinking of mothers with daily
Sons and daughters; wines and waters
Regretted…
 
But after a minute… when
My body ate the body was
The body forsaking the body I
Contemplated a diet of grape juice and
Toast…
 
Nearly the same until you remember
That the symbolism is cannibalism
And sacrilege only exists on Sunday
And all week I can borrow holiness unless
—shit—it’s Sunday…
 
Some Sundays taste like bread and wine
Others like bacon and eggs. I’m            
Not apprehensive over divine stovetop intervention
When it comes to breakfast at three…
 
But maybe I should be.