Broken Bread

Wisdom splintered in a million faces,

Each thing a mirror to the other. Bread

 

In erotic tension with itself, kind

Re-membered in kind, external crumbs

 

Met with the enthusiasm of a body’s

Unconscious knowing. Broken, separated

 

From its Source, not scattered in

Sin so much as a journey into separation for

 

The rugged pleasure of re-cognition; lofted out

As on string to sink into every gut’s teeth and

 

Tugged gently back home, re-membering those

Mired in exile, caught in ignorance, blind to their-

 

Selves being mended whole beyond supposed

divisions within imagined walls of cells, selves, all.

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