Now the manna was like coriander seed, and in color it was like bdellium.
Unless I had felt the rain on my skin, sweet on my tongue,
seen like the end of a film the rainbow yet to come
I too would have gotten sick of coriander seed
and even though bdellium was said to gleam like pearl
I’d soon start looking for pink and lavender
the meat and fragrance of God’s true imagination
berries, apples, some pears, the ripe side of peaches
and I’d bring up seedless oranges and not neglect the green
tips of asparagus, the black skin of figs, purple potatoes
had God’s patience been given to me along with God’s promise
had I been able to shake off the hot sand from my sandals
the fear of pursuit and the taste of eternal sameness
that made us forget to say thanks and maybe bow
and light candles or incense like they do in some countries
that live mostly on rice, and all of it white.