a morsel of religion

a morsel of religion  

 

 

finicky forager

Roadkill of the sophisticated kind

turns up his nose

a scavenger with taste

 

When the Angel rises

the forager finds refuge

in a forest of waiting

 

the dead are sacrificed

for love

and opportunity is a crossing

in mid night

 

Vultures are those who abandon virtue

but find solace in surmising 

victims are for the taking

fools are apprentices winging toward wayward ways

 

the forest loses light

the fickle sun sets gently

the forager loses sight

the hunger rises

 

with a delinquent moon

watching the Angel pass by

on its way to

heaven

 

avoiding the headlights

like one poet long ago

who tried the same exercise

but failed.

 

erin-cilberto

3/25/24

Reviews

[Pete]

this speaks to me of those who find religion only when faced with a crisis and need it, otherwise they don't have time nor room for it although they know that they should. "maybe tomorrow" they say, not realizing that tomorrow is closer than they realize. they live a life with occasional observance of virtue so as to just "get by" and keep their conscience at bay. we all pay the piper eventually.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your words on this piece, Pete,
j.