Revenant
Depending it could be an ambry or a stow-
away in tin or mahogany it could be it could be a recess deep
enough to keep peace and feed by a certain priest though
it's too dark to tell still I bet don't you it's
blessed nonetheless this hand
a tabernacle of one way or transparent
glass you tell me if God lives there and the coniferous resin's
a chrism whiff in this reliquary if God
lives there and is still
lit and ciborium stiff and the veined
leg of the Lamb's Gethsemane
is given a leg up rolled like tailor's stitch
marker for the two stiff as starch raised sky
and bell celebrating high thumbs as suppose
a revanant walked once up the old meeting
house pulpit steps in Amesberry and watched
the congregation of three asleep against their debted
membership dens like the small hunks of vermin turds firm
and scattered in the organ bellows where once the breath
of God lived and was pumped by foot and those same
thumbs as broke the host if God lived
in this place and in the forged key one of three
or four come down through the centuries to still
lay claim to the cylinder, bolt, box, and strike
plate in the aubried ambry where
the sift and silt of talked on
bread where the blasphemous tabernac
where flesh and purulent wine where
God lived and once was the lost
and gone prodigal come back
and benevolently
tugged from the peg
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and hug/lugged to the pub
and the keep's greasy fingers reached
in to squeeze the new flesh living
there since the top's been propped
on the pulpit rail
and sweet as you please
as small as his pinkies baby snakes
(it being dark in the meeting
house much of the year)
when the preacher's kid
pranking and turning loose his trousers
before the key's turned and the congregation's
led through the front
door peep hole where bending a cupped unblinking
eye on either side see the rise of the pulpit
and the high well lighted windows behind
are a sigh and by what else
but a revenant God a sigh nigh 300
years wide and ossified.
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