Feb 2020
God’s flaming muddy puddles wanna smile
but those flickering window flashes lie to me
returning Bible darkness from beaming light
I reach, raising these soiled linen shades
to the pure, blessed tones of the church bell
that claw, tear, but mend—dancing, echoing
exposed, keeping my willing palms on the book
healing emotional knives licking the demon poets
it’s just a dusty Bread Week Sunday, after all
but those flickering window flashes lie to me
returning Bible darkness from beaming light
I reach, raising these soiled linen shades
to the pure, blessed tones of the church bell
that claw, tear, but mend—dancing, echoing
exposed, keeping my willing palms on the book
healing emotional knives licking the demon poets
it’s just a dusty Bread Week Sunday, after all
