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ATR/102.1 Lord of hosts of perfunctory dinner parties at which nobody wants to linger, Lord of scraps of paper in the bottom drawer, old address books in which every name is smudged and faded like a decomposing body, I have no hymn. Give me words to live by and creatures to slaughter instead of my self. I want to offer something unclean, I want to let my flesh be raised corruptible, exactly as it is, so naked in its needing. Lord of the unwritten, I offer you this sweat stain on my pillow. Let me step into the anguish of a perfect sentence’s ellipsis. Let me staunch that wound. Let me be inevitable, and make the sentence whole. Daniel Kraft Daniel Kraft lives in Memphis, Tennessee, and works at a synagogue as Director of Education. He holds a master’s degree in Jewish studies from Harvard Divinity School, and his poems have appeared in such publications as Image and the Notre Dame Review.
Anglican Theological Review – SAGE
Published: Aug 25, 2021
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