Seven Moments of Praise

by Daniel Edward Moore

Hallelujah for the unbroken host of my mind
not letting hunger swallow, me whole.
                                                                                     Blessed be the taming of tongues.
Hallelujah for the preacher’s unsteady pulse
keeping time with the snare drums of sinners.
                                                                                     Blessed be the cardiac hymns of chaos.
Hallelujah for evening’s bruised black jazz
restoring heaven into something worth hearing.
                                                                                     Blessed be the ashes of Saint Cigarette.
Hallelujah for resentment’s flamethrower song
scorching stained-glass lambs as they sleep.
                                                                                     Blessed be the beast in your throat.
Hallelujah for altars called beds where we die
relieved of breath’s burden to be divine.
                                                                                     Blessed be the angels of apnea.
Hallelujah for mercy’s black leather boots
closing the show with a tap dance in pink.
                                                                                     Blessed be the perversion of gifts.
Hallelujah for breath moving out of our names
and falling in love with scenes from a train.
                                                                                     Blessed be the Conductor of care.

Daniel Edward Moore was born in Selma, Alabama, and lives in Washington on Whidbey Island. His work is forthcoming in I-70 Review, Tar River Poetry Journal, Bryant Literary Review, Book of Matches and Triggerfish Critical Review. Read his previous poem in Deep South here.