Jean Marble Poet Rhyme

In the Spirit of Wine and Whine

Please break your bread and pour your wine
don't fast from lures on my behalf
you'll not find me in grain nor grapes
nor peering from the golden calf
that challenges you look away.

I'll be your shame, I'll be your guilt,
the baker of unleavened will,
the tainted Spoils that rot your mind
and yet your belly won't be filled
with simple love you can't digest.

You've gorged on my affections while
I prayed that you would not forget.
A pestilence upon your time,
I've drifted from your table set
where not a minute's spared as mine.

My hungry heart shall growl no more
in hopes a bit of you might drop,
my empty eyes shall not look for
a crumb of chance that you might stop
and talk to me as if a chore.

I only feel the emptiness
when my own table spreads before
and it shows just the one seat less...
an empty place I can't fill nor
ignore the rumbling 'neath my breast.

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