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judas' vineyard
by Rachelle Howei am not an ancient
indian burial ground
no matter how many
corpses you've entombed
beneath my flesh.
i may drink jesus' blood,
i make take of that final sacrifice,
but that no more makes me a pharisee
than judas, who hung there, dangling
over his vineyard.
he'd sold himself for thirty pieces of silver,
i bartered my soul for ten.
the casket has been laid low,
its eternal resting place ten feet under.
but, even though the maggots make their bed
inside your skull and eyes,
you will never be lost to me;
i will never sing your eulogy. 10/17/2003 Author's Note: this did not at ALL come out the way i had hoped. but, i really hadn't hoped for anything considering the only line i had singing in my head was, "I am not an indian burial ground." heh heh. this is all wrong, but i don't know where to start. so. MEH.
Posted on 10/17/2003
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristine Briese on 10/17/03 at 03:37 PM I like it, though. It evokes some vivid, guilt-ridden imagery. But I thought Judas took 30 pieces of silver, not 60. It's been too long since I did any theological studying. |
| Posted by Kristine Briese on 10/17/03 at 03:47 PM Yes, you're right, the flow is better now. The imagery is still incredible. |
| Posted by Don Coffman on 10/18/03 at 06:51 PM I think you need to be given that 'fing genius' title, Rach, really. It's rough when a poem can't come out quite as intended, but you still turn out amazing words. |
| Posted by Karen Michelle on 10/19/03 at 03:16 PM I'm adding you to my friends because I am sitting here, awestruck right now. And all I can think of to say is 'wow'. I'm not usually at such a loss for words... |
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