05-01-2017, 10:20 PM
Sheba and the King
under the waxing moon we
not me and you
were on, beneath the branches rustling
the wings of bats and owls
and shadow-jumping one to two
from fruit to fruit, from hunger to hunger
out of the new and young and into
the wild and wizen-eyed
where wolves were not but tales of Christ
who long ago declared
the only worthy wife was His,
such that in red of ages we
even his sun and second father should
not, but me and you
under the waxing moon we
not me and you
were on, beneath the branches rustling
the wings of bats and owls
and shadow-jumping one to two
from fruit to fruit, from hunger to hunger
out of the new and young and into
the wild and wizen-eyed
where wolves were not but tales of Christ
who long ago declared
the only worthy wife was His,
such that in red of ages we
even his sun and second father should
not, but me and you