Eric Ashford Poet Free verse

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.

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