there we sift into the cup
moses turned it into wine
he found
a shift in the chemical dust and swapping our
sea-like tendencies to meet the sun
and we made ourselves bread too quicky,
too quickly.
this summer i am looking forward to see-ing the
horizon
and the endless stream of honey running
thru it.
my cup is red like blood and
yours is white like white blood cells
can i have some of yours
to heal the wounds
i inflicted on those men
back in egypt?
Copyright 2016 Golden Star Poetry
Golden Star Poetry 