Sunday Mornings

Sleep Sheets Bed Sex Feet Erotism In Love Toes
Lovers in Bed on a Sunday Morning

There are churches and then
There are cathedrals. Love is the latter.
That morning too, the wine glass was rich, silky and red
And the bread buttered like brioche
We sipped wine from each others glasses
And scavenged on each others dough
It was a beautiful routine on a Sunday morning
To be offered on an alter covered in a white sheet
A feeling that small habits billow into
Little miracles, like when candle light
Powers a sacrament of giving without condition,
Serving without sense or sensibility,
In to a tradition of interfacing the mortal with the divine
Until there is nothing left to transform
But the hysterical heaviness of breath
To the blissful lightness of parole.

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Author: meandererworld (Dilantha Gunawardana)

Dr Dilantha Gunawardana is a molecular biologist who graduated from the University of Melbourne. He moonlights as a poet. His poems have been accepted/published in Forage, American Journal of Poetry, Kitaab, Eastlit and Ravens Perch. He mixes science with poetry for a living, when what matters is the expression of both DNA and words into something serendipitous. Although an Australian citizen, Dilantha is domiciled in Sri Lanka, his country of birth.

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