watercolor saints pool
within folded hands
Jude transfigured
in a Judas glance
knees know well
to bend, replacing
feet for burden bear
and bones scrape
bones where once
a cushioned tissue
wore asunder
fingertips have lost
a steady pace in
grappling over tiny
orbs pierced by
liturgical links
cinders send
frankincense to
heavenly heights
mockingbirds of
a sinner lofting
prayers that way too
ritual rites are lost
in the depths of loss
and plummet into
the abyss the emptied
vessel laying before
all was poured into
blurred is what is
spoken an hour and
a day ago, giving
way to clarity of
a first dance and kiss
...the moments missed
and now sting when
sleeping alone or
fumbling with a ring
and almost heard
are the angels when
they sing, then
again it comes from
the loft in the back
and earth is still here
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