“Tongues of Fire This is what's become of us: I am confused by mourning, and he is the sun that goes to sleep on top of me, undone by moonrise. Lover, all I speak is iambs and slant rhyme. That devil lamb of light called hope is sacrificed and none too pleased with having lost its bleat. The stone has rolled away but God's not gone and damn it, I'm no fan of the weather here, it rains too often, bones of doves and angel down until the ground stains red with sighs and blood. It is wet and cold. Will you explain again the why of all there is and how he caught me in the act, discovering God?” PoetryReligionHopeHeavenPoemImageryFigurative LanguageJill Alexander Essbaum Book:Heaven Source: Heaven
“Paradise This bridge of moon on bended knee above us keening twilight and the snake that is your tongue has taught itself to sing, to sing. My hand so heavy with your hand, your eyes brimmed curve to crease with grief, and you chant Bread will be the body of a king, someday. With a voice like every nectarine, so lovely and so bruised, how I am tempted to you, famished as a rite of spring mid-winter underneath the tricky snow, broom-cold, tripping fig over foot, husky and nervous as the glassy oxen, staggering. Remember, I am but a rib. I curve into your spine and wrap about your heart, fleshless as marrow, your vitreous darling.” PoetryReligionHeavenChristianityPoemAllusionJill Alexander Essbaum Book:Heaven Source: Heaven
