things

Eucharist

My knees are chapped and bruised
from kneeling before you, an unnamed
god that I sacrifice my insides for.

To keep you close I must take you in,
holding you tight to my chest like an idol,
quaking and rocking as though entranced in prayer.

My forehead and lips burn with devotion
where you have anointed me.
It is here you have delivered me from the others.

You come, my sweet, motionless and sacred.
You go, restless and afraid.
Oh my darling full of grace, redeem me.


The Mighty Oak

There are roots,
thick and heavy roots
that clench themselves
to the driest soil.
They twist and turn
into complex shapes,
rigid and unforgiving.
No one can climb here
for the branches are brittle.
The bark is tough and remains
untouched for fear of tearing
skin, its been split in patches
by the curious, the few who've
tasted the tenderness within.
It may be because this tree
is filled with ancient secrets,
ghostly whispers fill its arms,
as they reach toward the skies.
It is silly to think
one should even try to reach
the top, it'd be easier
just to slip inside,
sleep a while.