Color (Cullen)/Bread and Wine

by Countee Cullen

Bread and Wine

FROM death of star to new star’s birth,
 This ache of limb, this throb of head,
This sweaty shop, this smell of earth,
 For this we pray, “Give daily bread.”

Then tenuous with dreams the night,
 The feel of soft brown hands in mine,
Strength from your lips for one more fight:
 Bread’s not so dry when dipped in wine.