Prayer

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I will miss your arms tonight.

Our world in the dying light.

Of your hazel joy.

Beneath shuttered lids.

And lips that I’ve kissed far too full.

I feel this loss but do not fear.

You are meant to be; my medium rare, striped blackened sear.

You preach to me this mornings name.

And with all it’s pillowed softness speak.

Of naked sighs like smokey doves forgotten Immortals do adjure.

Please alter not the altar scribed.

My flesh alone, my blood imbibed.

Just stir the cornfield of my soul.

In all the ways, I bequeath you always.

A phylactery in the vast forever.

– Amen.

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