Sam Silva

At the Charity Lunch

After Christmas, a baked soliloquy
...over charred words leftover
from the slow celebration
of orphaned gods, spewed from the virgin's
frigid orifice

...I and my lyrical chant
are lukewarm to cold
vegetables and bird meat heaped
and surrounded in the doughy plate
to be redone
and sent out to you

oh mass
by death!

Sam Silva © 2019