Monday, May 11, 2009



Do I uncover, bare my soul
before the world?
Or keep myself for him
before whose words
I genuflect in grateful submission...
Mouth open for communion,
head poised to go down,
I await transmission
of his divine sacrament.
I long to drink his wine,
feel the rush of his liquor
coursing down my throat,
through my limbs.
Stigmata.
Your spirit flows,
marks me as your own.


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