Tag: St. Martha

Late August the galley blooms              fruit flies, smoke-winged & garnet-eyed, circling the soft caves   of over-sweet summer fruit: pear & blueberry, clingstone                                       peach. Each night I pray resurrection   but am deceived. Faith is not feast                        but desire, not beauty of the table but what drags us starving                                         there –  what was buried…