WordsOut poems by Godfrey Rust  | collection Welcome To The Real World ← 51 of 59 → | home       

Judas calls Room Service

On channel 42
the preachers—
black and white,
men and women— 

expound/amplify/
elucidate/spell out
every meaning
under the sun, 

sluicegates of words
poured out amidst
his inexplicable miracles
of grace. 

My faith
is in Room Service,
running through my order
like a thesaurus— 

I take salvation over easy
on white bread,
and raid the minibar for wine.
I thirst.