Amish pride
Confined in a modern mind.
Give me my puritan pleasures:
Heat, salt, frantic motion
Veiled by immovable lips;
Impenetrable cloth.

Give me my quotable text:
Language trapped
In repetition.

Give me gold
Fashioned into the body
Of my salvation.

And I will pray to no idols.

I will live,
Honor my birth;
The eternal womb I erupted from.

The picture of honesty;
Human exactness in contractible skin.

© Shea Depmore
Steal money.. not words.


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