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the last supper
by Rachelle Howei never quite
noticed
the swell, the curve
of your shoulder
like a child
stretched in feeble positions
trying to ward off
self-loathing
and regret.
regret nothing,
they say
and pass the bread and wine
as they drink of his body
they whisper a prayer
and worship in tongues
tied.
06/06/2002 Posted on 06/06/2002
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 11/06/06 at 06:25 PM Fascinating view of the Last Supper. I have most often found it a wonderfully comforting and emotional experience. Tongue not tied! (I am not a Charismatic.) ;0) |
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