Monday, May 2, 2011


I feel impermeable here. And safe.
I am God’s daughter-city, the gates of me
quarried from mother-country mine:
pure praise. Praise-gates and walls of salvation:

I, being one with three, am ready for both
drenching oil and being stripped
(for every cup is, each one of the very Lord,
made by the giving hand sweet).

I am impermeable, full of all-
dissolving mystery, this grace-on-tongue
made flesh, contained in mouth to be contained
in me, made mine, my life in hiding deep,
high. And very far away.