To Infant Saints

he was not raised by wolves
but suckled on a goat
and slept with sheep

played with knitting needles
slayed the wyrm: seven oaks
grew from its teeth.

on seven hills his church
a cave turned inside out
the flags of love

remain forever furled
a bedtime story told
to infant saints

so that they would march to glory
and build a franchise on their bones

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