God's wrath has no beginning
or end. It's in my blood and
bones. It reigns inside my brain
as a conscience. A nun's whisper.
I drown in my baptism font.
I bathe in the river Jordan.
I drink wine made of the wrath
of an ever present sword of God.
So the angel swung his sickle to the earth and gathered the clusters from the vine of the earth, and threw them into the great wine press of the wrath of God. (Revelation 14:19)