Rapture, wrapped in golden chains
floats tirelessly
down
drains
and washes on a distant shore
and washes
where Alexandrian scribes
cut with a child's first-blade. Roar
deep from the lions belly
Rattle the c A g E;
Sin where gathering saints
hold
to find help,
to find help,
to find
what others felt.
A sacrament to your lips,
I'm learning a new kiss.
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