Clap Trap
talk
listen
forgiveness
how many times
sin, repetition
who believes this bunk
this self righteous whining on
oligarchies thrive on our sin
sins they have created for just this
to contain the life of us, to feed them
The cubby hole retains its darkness as it should for it contains us and what they see as our blackened souls. The perforated screen between secludes and excluded as it intrudes on the inner workings of our guilt. Our guilt, the guilt they've orchestrated, and mined, since sperm met egg. These men of the cloth castrated by their own hands, cloaked in black and white, bathed in gray: sit and meat out the justice of the Lord in Hail Mary's?
incense burns
masking the scent of sweat --
petals fall
*Etheree & Prose poetry & haiku
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2013
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