Eucharist on Blue Line

An honest cologne of rank effort
gives this place a certain attraction. . .
traction and torque,
piping and propane,
perform a chanty that mines my marrow.

Skating around spiking obstructions,
auto-minded until a quill finds its mark,
I'm studded with one more worker's war wound.

Comrades' curses spice the particulate air;
women enjoy the masculine mystique,
racing the byway Rosie once blazed,
while men enjoy the view.

Vacuums hum and suck up
what blowers and air tools deposit
on my weekday path to glory;
my body now follows where my spirit led,
joining the Joiner of Nazareth in holy communion,
who once assembled carts hauled by asses,
whereas mine are driven by diesel.

I am His steward and He is mine,
as He labors to teach me the method
to Marx's madness.




Poetry by Mark Aikins
Read 681 times
Written on 2006-12-31 at 04:13

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Mark Aikins
Thanks, Aliena. Nice to hear that the poem made an impact on an atheist. I hope you move closer to faith in the coming year. Blessings! --Mark
2007-01-01



Thank you for expressing your faith and its practice in a way that is honest, well-written and free from clichés!
Even though I have left the church and define myself as an atheist, I enjoyed very much reading your poem.
2006-12-31