The Cross Bleeds Red

The cross bleeds red
Crimson, ruby, and cardinal
A deep and primordial hue
That transfixes in its gaze
Turning water into wine
Drunk on its own demanding
Yet always wanting more
It’s painful to the touch
Like softened wax it slides
Burning bright as the sun
Imperial, Spanish, and cherry
Carved into damask wood
Names, dates, and times
The gratitude of years
Washing away in flood
At a high-fixed tide
Red as ceremonial robes
Left at roadside’s edge
To drain into the gutter
And purify my heart’s soul

The cross bleeds red
As intimate as sin
And is cleansed.



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Cozy Corner

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Whose Wine Is It Anyway?

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