Corporeal

This flesh is
as we conceive

each sparkling pin
of sunlight filling

our cupped palms'
gift of the red

hand-pump's cool
water spilled here

in sleepy summer's park
before our very eyes

our lips, and tasting it
we know at last, need

and the wet bones of our
bare feet, the promise

kept for us while still
above the soil: this

carnal irony of consciousness,
ephemeral and costing

only each of our precious
lives: this beloved

flash, this flesh
of instance:

our mortal mind
of eternal soul

so corporeal.

poem by Matt Mullins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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