Four glasses in, heaps of food and words,
the feast of mouth-people overflows.
The Reed Sea breathes. The message
in the bottle passed forward each year —
Ask, talk! Tell, tell! —
God’s backward order
that Exodus was a pretext
for us to tell the story –
makes its own sense.
Words, world making. The whole
shifts in parts, the bottom glitters,
we teeter in freedom
white flowers in a night garden.