SUNDAY POEM
You opened your mouth and swallowed it all
believing purity of heart could transform
mercury into mead by some
mysterious alchemy of the spirit.
You sucked in poisoned milk; you swallowed stones
disguised as potato soup. Bullets rumbled
in your belly, which grew round as the full
moon stuffed with shattered rabbit bones.
Heart without wisdom is a blind woman
boiling lentils in acid rain.