Washing of the feet by Terrance Brown

Terrance Brown | February 11th, 2018 | poetry | No Comments


You do not know Him
if you think He has not
washed the feet
of his enemies
while picking
the thorns out
as they were collected
as the crown
of his head changed
into a corona.
You do not know me
if you think I
have not bled on paper
because of the value
of our veins.
I try and wash the world
from her shoulders
because some things
are too elegant
in the heart
to carry anything
not as light as heaven

Poet Bio

Terrance Brown

24 by way of St. Louis Missouri,
previously published in Bellerive’s Sonder, wusgoodblack.com, issue 3 of Bad Jacket, poetrypotion.com & the site BrooklynButtah.com.

A pacifist deciphering the mathematics of a war time society.
Bred from scribbles on the tabletops in your local schoolery.

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