Today's poem is by Camille T. Dungy
Sunday Morning
Desire swung like that: like her
legs in procession, like perfume
from a censer on its linked chain.
Heavy as smoke in the hold's light,
desire. A church, a cathedral, the body
in that robe. The robe sash swinging.
The progress through the sinning body
to this sacred spot. A man kneeling.
A man with head bent. A man lifting
his prayer to a woman. Desire. Desire. Desire.
Grant us grace.
Copyright © 2010 Camille T. Dungy All rights reserved
from Suck on the Marrow
Red Hen Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
Home
Archives
Web Weekly Features
About Verse Daily
FAQs
Submit to Verse Daily
Support Verse Daily
Copyright © 2002-2010 Verse Daily All Rights Reserved