Nathan Martin Poet I do not know?

Less of More

a little less of a little more, a smaller me in
 the attic of someone elses house. 

 a little further away until i do not have
 to worry about the words or the punctuation, 
 the notoriety of the base emotion.
the delicate sweetness of the sugar coated words
 that crumble from a touch. 
 the bible says fruit eaten in secret is sweet.  
sugar eaten in secret is also sweet.

 i rememer now how as a child at are four squar 
evangelical church. how over long shaggy green 
carpet i would sneak out of the service as a 
little soldier of fortune slowly walking to the
 back lobby of the church where the coffee table
 was kept. 

 i would open the blue and white box of sugar
 carefully viewing the array of gods holy dice
 stacked evenly.  a few in a styrofoam cup with 
a splash of folgers to melt them and a few more
 in my pocket for the rest of the service and then
 i would head back.

 all these years later i still dont understand the
 hebrew and latin biblical terms are pastor talked 
about but strangly i do still drink folgers coffee.

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