stranger, plague, fall -
I find you
in all of it -
forgetting words, the poison
has already done it's work
and a fine piece it is -
It's noon -
there is a mass being said
for you, your soul,
the walking dead.
The priest intones
his voice soaks into
the crucifix
like blood.
Ever pious
in the sea of death
he prays over
day and night,
he will forget you.
-ANDERSON 97
© 1997 Kimberly Anderson |
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