Thursday, March 02, 2017

our lady of sorrows, dreaming

ancient down some sightless avenue w/
                                       broken hands
w/ faith in the government
and in god
and the trees all recoiling from
the flames that surrounded him

the powerlines all snapped

electricity mixed w/ blood and
the woman who screamed sounded
like my sister

the city lay in ruins

words written in ash and tar on the
walls of abandoned factories
and the carefully considered words of priests

their addiction to violence

no greater than anyone else’s
i guess
but it still felt good knowing how
painfully they’d die

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