The Loving Father

A little boy at market,

stomach rumbling, stole a fish,

but when his father heard the tale,

he beat him with the switch.

Sin Offering

The blood ran from the wound and dripped.

     I sat in writhing pain:

A severed hand from throbbing wrist—

     I'll never sin again.

Remember That You Are Dust, and to Dust You Shall Return

Kneeling at the communion rail, our

flesh ached to become the dust that
had been smeared across our brows
(but we settled for a piece of
 God and a little sip of alcohol)