by Nikki Ummel

We are both
mortar and pestle:
we grind our bones down
for creation,

bury our
dust deep, seeds
we water with mouths
full of yes.

breathe deep, roots
we grow with lips
of oh.

We make
ourselves anew,
wash each other’s bodies

in frankincense
and myrrh, adorn
each other’s arms
in bracelets of gold.

We spread palms
across the floor, and prepare
to embrace god
who comes when he is called.

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