Give us

Give us the body. The one with palms read. Stigamata stalactites give us the holy grail. The trophy. Were under a tree writing the story while the rest still racing. Then give us hearth and home. And we ricochet in our story. Angst and impact through what was buried in the forests. Underneath skins, digging, cures, itches, black plague. To moldy sun shines and north winds; return us to the hill, knees stocky, and the nails pounding. And wait... no wait. Give us commercials indeed; echo, meaning ....