pink rings
around my tusks
have left me questioning
sincerity and
you.
since fingers
traced my brittle skin
instead of rosary and glass,
i question what intentions are
and why the clouds have told me things;
sounding out
your name, handing loaves of bread
and blood
to men.
.
.
show me every hand you have,
even if it takes all night
and false gods get put
to shame.
red- handed,
are we now? toss the rainbows
from your lips, and let me
rain below the ground
so one of us
may grow
-- drinking rosary milk,
and laughing in the aisle of a field
that's strewn with unicorns
and this:
palms that show the truth,
and angels with calligraphy
that write my name in a better book;
one that He has
penned.
Adding your comment:
Love-A-Lot Bear!!! YAY!
