Lord’s Prayer with Cracked Spine

(rediscovered poems pt. 2)

Our mother
who art in heaven,
earth, and the platter
on which the full moon is served,
be thy name
caught between twirling tongues
sighed into fistfuls of sheets
written and rewritten
be thy name
thy kingdom come
out from behind
its blue velvet curtain
thy kingdom
gives us something to howl at
thy will be done
on morning as if it is midnight.
Give us this night
with its coffee-stained cardboard
and do not forgive us
because we won’t apologize
or be apologized to
and lead us into temptation
with a single curled, chipped-nail polish finger,
deliver us
to books and stoplights
and let us find our own gorgeous evil
for thine is the purple temple
and glowing spirit
tonight, and tonight only.

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