SACRAMENT – POEM
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there sits a split wooden
bridge that the goats use
to cross the water.
when it was crystal
i used to bathe there
like a priestess
in classic white.
with a stomach full of rain
i’d belly down- frog skin
and pig slip first- into that
spring swamp.
that’s good water
clean water
heal my sores and spots water-
i’d use that water to draw out
yesterday’s soup.
on the bridge the goats are shitting
yellow. pushing and dropping
the whole lot blinking
like they’ve got something big in their eye.
in the water
the shit falls through like pennies
and trade my white for brown.
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