The Chalice

Elizabeth,
My worship is a secret.
Loose the chalice for me,
From the tangles of your long brown hair,
Let it out.
Hand me the cruet.
It’s this moment that I speak of.
Oh, to bless my please
In the rancor of your mhyrr-stained arms.
Let me in!
Maybe I could have shown you
How my mouth is like a baby’s.
Were you ever too told
To make holy of an infant’s tongue?
Let it go,
Let it go,
Let it go,
Let it go.