ode to a dirty dish

there is a fold in the cloth,

a misnomer
in the mind

there 's no such thing
as
a dirty dish.

it's supposed to be
 exactly as it is
right now

greasy chicken carcass
scraps of green
scattered grains of rice

you just ate

look!
 at the beauty
of the remains

the story 
of one fed
human being

a dinner provided
easily
kindly
tastily

a bird
flew here
to support you!

she lives as you
now

what need is the hurry
to erase this gift?

this plenty,
of flourishing green leaves,

the sun herself,
in costume,
in juices you can drink

she lives as you 
now

oh divine miracle,
the flow
of each
into the other--
how ever did we
conceive
for a moment
that
"i" am not the sea,
not the earth,
not the leaf,
or the flower?

no,
hurry not
to wash away
this life's gifts

that continue
like a circle
ever to arrive
arrive
arrive

the signs of her
Coming,
the "dirty" dish
is but
altar
to get on my knees
and give thanks
give thanks
give thanks

that wonders
never do cease

and Love
provides
a feast

every moment
every moment
every
moment

how grateful
to have the sign
i've
been
fed...

no more a 'dirty' dish,
but only
a dish
covered
completely
in love....

She
gives

She gives

now
now

now