tasting the bitter


by Jonathan Hunter-Kilmer

those fingers

long with dirty nails

and sticky

skin that sheds and pales

exposed to light

from which they hide

much pleasure from such grief derive

they cast their shadows

webs and muck

and make the dark grow

twist and duck

away from truth

and gobble lies

as adolescents do french fries

the hands from which they grow

grab sin

and arms encircle

children in

and horror spread like table cloths

seeking putrescence like mad moths

they've smeared their souls

like naked skin

with slime sought, found and made

so in

a thick coccoon of stinking black

their teeth they lick and wet lips smack

and pick the rot between those teeth

and eat the filth that round them seethes

and spawn

alike

with mates whose firm

beliefs make those who see You squirm

Beloved

help me to scarpe away

these clinging remnants of decay

and show my lambs

Your grace alone

as over all Your cross has shone

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