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A Gothic Steeple of His Ribs

Sing my tongue.

By Maya ManzonelliPublished 5 years ago 1 min read
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Pange lingua Gloriosi

Sing my tongue, The Savior’s glory

Lest it recite a psalm against the back of his teeth

Finding salvation in the tabernacle of his mouth

Taking the eucharist of his tongue

Corporis mysterium

Of His Flesh, the mystery sing

Lest my hands ponder the mysteries of his flesh

Writing a litany of wants against his scars

Praising His name as I kiss his chest

Sanguinisque pretiosi

Of His Blood, all price exceeding

Lest my teeth exact a sacred drop from his lips

Pleading forgiveness with a bite

Earning grace with the flush of his cheeks

Quem in mundi pretium

Shed by our Immortal King

Lest my eyes map his body as he sheds his clothes

Praying that I might be permitted to touch

Seeking absolution against the altar of his jaw

Fructus ventris generosi

Destined, for the world's redemption

Lest I forever lay in the sin of his body

Atoning with my head between his legs

Confessing future sins, whispered in his ear

Rex effudit gentium

From a noble womb to spring.

Lest I turn from His light to the shadow of his arms

Forgetting His sacrifice for his mouth

Forsaking Him for him.

love poems
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