Festival

As the NATO grenade
nestles its chilled tint
of nature near my
unworn boot,
I see his face.

The face of Jesus –
engraved in the ream
of blackened tape,
circumference.

Thornless ring
pinned to the head
that gushes blood
not of his own.

And as you take me,
Savior,
to the limb-freed
paradise that no
book, no myth
shall ever know,
may this prayer—

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