Battle of the Poets

1.

the first sunrise was hidden in gray cotton
swaddled in dew and tall grass

she is holy,
she is holy,
lord she is holy.

the second dawn was naked
the sun a pink nipple
the day sucking for dear life

she is the lamb
she is the lamb
prepare the sacrifice

the last morning was delivered
on the voice of horns, in the shade
of white wings and the smell of the sea

he bowed
and prayed.

Alleluia.

2.

noon was blanketed in raindrops
and warmed by buttercups gold glow

he is holy
he is holy
lord, he is holy

another noon was born breathless
the body blue, and all life anticipating
the newness of another now

he is the lamb
he is the lamb
prepare the sacrifice

then, noon blared upon a saxophone
the rhythm of hip young men
and an endless bopping bass of blues

he bowed
and prayed

Alleluia

3.

There are no stars, no moon,
They were eaten by the clouds

We are holy
We are holy
Lord, believe – we are holy.

The stars freckle the skin of the old day
Every moonbeam a last gasp of life
before the embrace of velvet night.

We are the lamb
We are the lamb
We are pure – a perfect sacrifice indeed!

The last night a loon landed on
A glassy pond, with a muffled splash
And a long wailing note.

He bowed
And prayed

Alleluia.