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"You have put gladness in my heart,
more than when grain and wine and oil
increase." Ps. 4:7

I get this simile--
the gladness
in the fragrant
steam of a warm bowl
of oatmeal
with milk,
a pat of butter,
enough maple
syrup to
turn it into
the sweet roll
of pleasure
across the tongue…

The wine requires
no such mix,
not even the
rich fullness
of lamb--
it is the bribe
of gaiety,
if only for
an evening--
laughter and banter
mix freely.

Now the oil,
I have a
problem with--
free associating
it with salad greens,
perhaps rusty
around the edges--
no tomatoes.
I’d rather touch it,
feel the soft
slippery slide
of thumb and
signs made on skin.

So I wonder
about this greater
this self imbibed
that is warm
on the palate,
sensuous to
the heart--
this ingesting,
the divine,
as if it were
a meal,
the touch
of lips
and tongue,
the pleasures
of fullness,
and dreamful

9 Mar 02

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