My son was eating cornflakes
And I took a flake or two.
This random act of playful theft,
Led contemplation through
A chain of thoughts that circumvent
My normal cornflake thinking
My thought pattern might represent
A drunkard ‘midst his drinking.
My tongue curled inside my mouth
Scraped the caverns of my bones
Starting North and heading south
To flick for food in pearly stones.
Then pressed against the molar
In the back most leftest corner
Sweeping Closest to the solar
Where Christ remains adorner
The food bits flick on out
With Creator from a crater
To the front of my closed mouth
Was my Lord I’d saved for later.