I am there now,

I am eating there.

Oh! It shines,

and every dish on it,

shining too,

smelt in the smelter of a fiery furnace,

yellow stars twinkling

in a golden sky.

A silk cloth runs the length of it,

iridescent in the candlelight,

sometimes glowing white,

sometimes shades of green and purple,

each thread coated in the wing-powder of the butterfly,

galaxy blue.

Sprinkled with crystal glasses

sparkling with the purest wine—

The Weeper’s Vineyard Collected Vintage—

velvety and fine

with a touch of salinity.

The crowned servers lean forward so that I can take

the bread and

the meat and

the pears and

the honey and

the cream,

so that I can take it up in tongs and ladles

into my bowls and dishes.

And I taste,

and it is the taste of forgiveness,

of relief and airy light

of everlasting lovingkindness.

I taste,

and it is good.

© Amy Axby 2019