• Alive, clouds steam, the leaded glass
    Shows me worlds where I won't pass
    I worry Mother superior would crack starch turn
    The matchstick boy, the eyes that burn
    Sees dripping off the well fed chins
    The shiny fat ,hands peeling skin
    From the headless roasted bird
    Rushing through the holy word
    The hearthed fire now licks higher and higher
    Shivering , I know it's true desire
    Waiting for your meat to spice
    The hovering hungry eyes, a starving christ
    Who shows me from a tiny matchstick
    A high door locked , blue flames can pick
    Blooms devils and seraphim
    Riding plumes of smoke and steam
    Conflagration's awesome heat
    Brings steaming meat for poor to eat