When Our Cups Like Mouths by James Robert Kibby

At the last most precious wine,

When our cups like mouths gaping and parched,

Gushed as a fount from desert stone.

Sacred flesh stripped to the bone.

Cluster of grapes grown on a vine,

Trampled out in appointed time,

Stored in a vat hewed as a tomb.

In three days, first fruits of the new

For our cups like mouths gaping and parched;

These chalices of human hearts.

My name is James Robert Kibby. I live in Buffalo, N.Y. with my wife and two children, and I work full time for St. Bartholomew’s Anglican Church in Tonawanda, N.Y. overseeing building maintenance as well as media operations. All of my published work has been in songwriting. I have a solo album (One Man Garage Band), an EP (Flesh & Bone), two singles (How Deeply, and Calm Your Heart), and an album I co-wrote with a friend (The Weekend Preacher). Since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, I’ve focused more on writing poetry with the goal of publishing my first book, and I began a creative writing podcast called Deer Tracks to encourage participation in various literary or visual art forms. Most of what is shared on the podcast is poetry (it’s a great medium for it), but I have also read some short stories.