Seven days walking from Delphi
wearing amulets at the bottoms of my pockets,
turning thoughts like a stone
too early thrown at the arena
to contemplate martyrdom during
grace’s brief interruptions.
I’ve long quit the sky
and deafened prophecy
against this sinner’s metered drum,
yet here I am again,
praying at the temples of your gods,
tithing olives at the doors 
for a fast broken by your fingerprints impressed
upon loaves of day-old bread 
rotting at market. 

(Source: inchesgiven)