The Last Supper

A Kindle Short Read
Warning! Despite the title "The Last Supper", these are not religious poems. These poems embrace the intersection of the Sacred and the Profane. At that intersection lies the forbidden. These poems are forbidden to you if you are easily offended, if you read the lines but not between the lines. If you cannot embrace shades of gray, you will not like these poems. The author apologizes in advance for the lack of roses and limericks in these poems. These poems are not for children, little old ladies, or Church Mothers. However the church is in these poems.
You might get a whiff of the 80’s in these verses. Ronald Reagan may be dead, but his legacy lives on. Nothing has changed much in corporate America. Greed rules. AIDS steals away our young men and women. The poem’s title, The Last Supper, comes the mantra a young man recited as I fed him his last meal: A sip of water please/A little string beans/Wait now, you're rushing me.

If you love the Lord or the God in you, you will love these poems--not because they’re religious, but because they strive to tell the truth.
Charles W. Harvey
1987 PEN/Southwest Discovery Prize Winner

Excerpt:

PERHAPS

Perhaps we're just taking
up space in each other's empty
wounded, gushing hearts,
and bathing in blood so thick
our eyes turn
late-night red.

Perhaps you'll let me pull
down the straps of your sea blue
overalls and let my fingers crawl all over
your brown mountains and hills.

Perhaps the twin bed is just right for us.

Perhaps we will not annihilate
each other with tongues.
I want your lies, your smoke,
your children splattering the sheets,
my chest and chin.

Perhaps I'll let you bury me
and live on for twenty years
soaking your old bones
in my memories.