First Supper
This is the pristine sacrament,
Earlier than bread.
Cuddle closer, sleepy-head;
Press your curled ear in the hollow
Of my arm, and suck and swallow.
What to us are rumored wars?
Fires and floods and falling stars
Could not break our happy trance.
We're immune to circumstance.
You who share my peace tonight,
Old as man and old as beast,
Be a priestess of this rite.
Celebrate this Eucharist.
Structure
13 lines · 3 stanzas