love in the fog of mourning: part 5

5

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tear shaped hours have passed me in waiting
as the sun arises over the big river.

i’ve kept watch over the waves,
staring into the morning as red as
thomas’s bloodied finger tips,

i have fallen in to this trap before,
lied to you sacramentally,
craved the red meat as the bread you baked
moldered in a corner.

torn from the earth and rooted again
in a soil far less fertile,
i danced before the altar,
before the baptist’s severed head.