The Meal of Wishes
Bring me water and turnips
and coarse sea salt and the sliver
of the moon that hovered over
my house as a child, the one
I made wishes on, the one
I swore would bear me witness.
Bring me all of this to make
the perfect meal that requires
no prayer before hand, the meal
that is the prayer itself. Let me
eat my wishes and swallow
them whole, their sweet taste
still so impossible and full.
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