How kind a Lion to become the Lamb!
The everlasting, holy Great I Am
In human skin and bone, with dying sighs,
Has bowed His head to lift my weeping eyes.

* * *
Wouldn’t it be hilarious
If I find a solar-powered motor
And a GPS
Under all the water I’ve been bailing out?

* * *
My feelings of failure and self-pity,
At least when it comes to you,
Keep coming to my front porch
Because I keep leaving food for them there
Like an idiot, even though they smell kinda bad
And have fleas and need something better than
Cans of my misguided intentions.

One of these days they might end up
In my house and tearing up all the furniture.

I should just shoot them on the spot.

Or at the very least find them a good home
(That is not mine) so they can stop being so
Scrawny and scared and grow up into something like
Love.

* * *
Two Sundays before Easter
I forget what I have in my hand
And spill the communion wine

I wipe it off the varnished floor
And off my calloused knees
Before it leaves a mark on both

I throw the towels in the trash
A poor man’s relic
My hands now drunk on the scent

They pour the rest and light the
Candles for the feast

* * *

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