Poetry – Scroll by Matt Copeland

for Tim Ferris

Christ’s making port between his lips to the blues
another cheery dusk of lambs for Christ’s majestic view
fields exploding like emeralds under the cherry tree
goodbye to you Canadian geese landing in the rice  and
ice cubes moving through the glass like shame  and
I’m still failing to understand
so many lies from the insane ministers of intelligence
hanging from each limb perfected images of saints
on giant canvasses eviscerated stained
the drops one by one several brained fixtures
you said we’d revise with a mixture of Jesus’ paint
like new angels filling our glasses at the The Red Fox Inn
trusting the taste our faith marching back to Bethlehem
and on to the sea no one really sees
forging the waves blink blink staring and disappearing
through the clouds
at the sun