poetry

lavender flowers

the bible
would have been more
interesting
had we been told
whom, it was–
that jesus was fucking
tho the fables’ lessons
would fail us
falling (further) into question
if one, above others, were chosen
tho it’s also true enough
that love, chooses us
for its desert cross
I wrote a squalid poem
one lonely evening
for the poor, divine bastard
aye, for all of us
tho I’d omitted
the lavender flowers
I’d seen–
blooms swaying
in the sweltering winds’
thirsty infinity
hopeful
and
defiant

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Eric

I've come to write.

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