from the glory of the creator,
morsels of light that shine
from the depths and disintegrate
on the heights.
Teeth of a grain of sand
that holds no welcoming flavor.
But then she parts the parted waves
into multifaceted fragments
loosing lilac from glass
and velvet from denim
filling the shrines with spirit again
and the cups with fat
and the vats with slimmer
and longer and deeper vats
to the core of the Earth with a song
hot black thanksgiving.
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