It’s just grape juice.

That wisdom is overwhelming,
intolerable placid chimes.

Creases will find themselves

branching, splitting to your temples
                    (every sunday morning).

And Christ confessed,
it’s just grape juice,

it’s a virus’ spread;
golden rimed goblets
passed through hands


gospel dwellers,
choir memes,
pew people,
virgin teens

waiting in line,
down the aisle–
brace yourself.
Scold the child,
          “hands under seat,
           control your feet,
           kneel down and
           say a prayer

           for me.”

* Another prompt, “In good faith; describe a memory or encounter in which you considered your faith, religion, spirituality — or lack of — for the first time.” For the first time was every time I stepped into church…

About Robyn

"If you haven't known insanity, you haven't lived."
This entry was posted in Philosophy 3308 001, Prompted Poetry, Recovery (USA) and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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