Sunday, July 18, 2010

On Glossolalia

The Way Faith Works

invokes notes
threading from
a flooded throat,
moving through tongues
pink and purple,
something
rising in ourselves,
but beyond us:
shrouded forms
spiritual as mist
floating across a river,
variables in
an equation of flame.
The way psalms work
is swirling sideways,
notes taken or not,
silence taken
advantage of.
Prayer is
a tongue trying
to trust lips and teeth,
cowed, yet called by
rising or open vowels
to Amen.
I hear the hymn
of your tattooed ankle,
arched eyebrow
and scarred lip.
I believe
exquisitely as a long kiss
in all the ways
our Tongues can twist.
Can the melted music
of our mouths
be held
as communion?
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