it sounds like the kiddies
are getting too big
for their britches
those snitches

those stiches
working to heal
on the inside of your heart
are swollen and sore
the pinky patchitty
skin peeled back
on the cold steel table in
the middle of a cathedral hall

dimmed

the others
in the dark
holding melted
cigarrette lighters
ignites in on her broken, bent back
sends her to the ground
a firefly in the snow
popping off like fireworks
as we stand
with our mouths a-gape
is not the agape had at the dinner
table in complete silence
the girl burning in the background
the men sitting still
their heads
bowed
kissing
the ring
for the king
has returned in majesty
a booming
sound echoing across Inwood Rd.
reminding the dicotomy of divinity
is an apple cut in two
water poured on our feet
letting the steam
cleanse us of our sins
the bins are not full
they are overflowing
with the most immaculate love
simmering in the kettle
with your spinach

sit up son
stand up straight little one
kneel before God
and don't forget

to tie your shoes

now scram

10/29/2005

Posted on 10/29/2005
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