Prayers of Gratitude Are Not All the Same

Thank you for your still laboring pains. Thanks for the amnesia of suffering the bedpan and the bible, the sunny window that ran with a watery blood wherever the flying ducks rushed toward your gun. Fingertips tingle, the daily callus is softening, becoming bearable the way a fox forgets its trap shattered paw. Thanks for the moonlight dispensed in cloud-covered dreams. The applauding grateful must have partaken of your loaves and fishes where hooked worms still dangle bereft of hungry lips. We are the tenderest of prey again, the catch we have all been looking for. What more can be said when gratitude runs away with its desires still wriggling and fleshy. Thank you; for your mastering love hath consumed the apple in our mouths and we are served up in wide-eyed wonder once more.