My vagrant ways became annoying,
desultory were the holy socks
the grumble stomach,
until one day a plumped up dumpster
with flies and fleas circling round,
whispered my baptismal name in
metal letters,
told how blood is salted,
streams in dark through
cells while caressing,
speaks in hushed tones
rushes and trills,
a sacrament red and
wildly painted
washes us clean into
human sainthood,
fills high and low and what’s in
between with invisible scripture
writ sacred from glorious trees
and our full life story.
Since that message tin cans sparkle,
each new season and every alley
fountains of light and lovely folly.
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