The third poem of the cycle, from 2010, framing the poet's passion for his totem-muse White Sunday in the Catholic sacraments.
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I will take the flesh and the wine, divine, into me and make it a part of me.
Transubstantiating your essence in heated flesh and the blood of your desire
into a purifying agent to make me yours, to prove and purpose my redemption.
Your blood, mingled with sweat and the essence of your fragrant regions,
a taste like jasmine and the iron of my conviction to your divinity. I accept
the absolution of your surrender to my thirst and hunger. My passion.
And I, to you. Take my flesh into you and draw out the warm wine,
the leper's blood of my surrender to your tender and urgent needs, seed
given as feast, released, and we have taken two separate souls and merged.
Drink deeply, consume completely, leave nothing of this vessel,
for it is nothing without you to draw it in, sharing again your flesh and blood
as you swallow me, hollow me, and refill me with your transcendent spark.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.