Confiteor
i have sate, till now,
at table
eating heavy loaves of Safe
spread thick with Pleasant--
i confess
i wanted You
for fine liqueur
for pungent cheese--
a little piquant crumb
a golden drop
to sit atop--to slip between
the cracks in my
Replete--
Peccavi
Now (milkdry) i see
how glib--how slippery--
Now as the deer--grant me
my God, to long--
doglike
with starveling eyes
with swollen tongue
To labber at your presence
every sinew tensed to snap
the single precious crumbs
the silver drips--
To thirst till every shriveled cell
cries out to unseen swollen clouds--
To want bonedeep to drink
to drench
to swell--
Ut gaudium meum sit plenum
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