Jerrybaldy
07-08-2012, 06:57 PM
I Part my lips,
tongue stretched.
I taste you on its tip.
Is it you I worship here?
Pictured between breaths
and miniature deaths,
your musk still lingers
on dry stained fingers.
A congregated lady coughs loudly,
a stillborn baby cries from the vault.
My tongue seeks rice paper
and clotted wine,
the sun finds my moles,
through blood stained glass.
'Body of Christ', says the man.
I offer a tortured
'Amen'.
tongue stretched.
I taste you on its tip.
Is it you I worship here?
Pictured between breaths
and miniature deaths,
your musk still lingers
on dry stained fingers.
A congregated lady coughs loudly,
a stillborn baby cries from the vault.
My tongue seeks rice paper
and clotted wine,
the sun finds my moles,
through blood stained glass.
'Body of Christ', says the man.
I offer a tortured
'Amen'.