Читать книгу Psalms of Gratitude and Prayer - John J. Brugaletta - Страница 16

When You slap me onto the wheel’s exact center

with your accurate eye, then set me dizzying around,

may I not wobble, but sit still as I spin fast.

When You insert your thumbs to open my mouth,

may I yawn the perfect O of the perfect prayer.

When You touch me both outside and inside at once,

lifting me up, making me upright but more fragile,

may I not collapse into an ashtray, but stand

as your cereal bowl, your vegetable server,

or, if You will, even a vase, a casserole, a teapot.

May there be no pockets in me to expand in the kiln,

for your other pots may be shattered if I explode.

May we all serve at your table, meekly waiting

for your eye, your hand to lift us, your lip to sup.