American Standard Version
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1 o Lord, how we must break Your heart we wafer & grape juice into blood. while my acupuncturist dots my flesh lungs. 4 but this, i promise, is not a whoever eats of this bread & drinks of this sin. 6 now that we have arrived here, sell me no in Your ordinance. in judgment, at the cruiser’s hum. 7 my acupuncturist 9 i have told him nothing of trauma—how terrorized. 11 how, in my neighborhood, the officer eyeballed me head to toe, for his mistake. 13 i know You never meant |
daily. 2 we arrive to consume Your brokenness: 3 lately, You weep from tear gas canisters like the via dolorosa when looking for my prayer about myself. 5 i am the body of peoples. cup in an unworthy manner, You said, is guilty of silence—a calf of gold. i am not perfect my body dies & dies until my death is expected knows the body. 8 my lungs are said to store fear. my lords are terrorists. 10 how we walk to polls a cruiser crossed my path twice. i became catholic. did not use his blinker once. 12 a camera lens died for silence to become Your gift of language. |
| 14 what my leader smolders between the pyres, Your Word is a house my body runs to seek |
our tongues, is not for communion’s sake. if refuge, Your church is often a house i find none. |
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