Magic

Slain,
they say Jesus turned
blood into wine,
but all I see is
more blood.

It drips from
emboldened tip,
pooling silver en
pointe
 a star.

Uncontrolled blue, the sky billows,
wrapped around your
Self and

cling like an autonomous vine
to a soured sweet face.

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2 comments

  1. This is astounding. From what I’ve read so far, your work is masterfully done, symbolic without being overwrought, and gracefully beautiful.

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