Poetry

One Room, Under God

They were roasting meat
in the Great Hall
beneath colorful banners
festooning the room

I suppose

And the odor warmed
even the cold damp stones
of this dank dungeon

I wish you could
have been here
chained up with me
so you would know
the odor of God’s
presence – that of charred
meat to a barren belly

And to hear the
chalices knocking
together and the
laughing far
above us
Surely the
melodious
tones of
gods and
goddesses
feasting

If only you could
have been here with me

Dangling

Basking under the
fragrant smoke
of heaven

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