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

forgiven

by death!

 

 

 

 

Sam Silva © 2019