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Bang! You're Dead

Afraid of flowers with eyes, ghosts,
& silence, you live with your mother,
wash your hands before each meal

in the evenings you hammer,
you hammer nails in the wall --

one for that girl who
scrubs beneath her breasts to
remove that familiar sour scent

one for your mother who
only speaks in tongues

one for your father who
put a bullet through his head --
(bang! you're dead)

faith is lost, you smash
the nativity scene
with the hammer --
the virgin Mary was the
hardest to clean up for
her eyes were trusting.

©Tasha 2000

Published in Unlikely Stories a collection of literary art
@ http://home.flash.net/~unlikely/index.html

published in: (this) poetry site : issue 5 @
http://freespace.virgin.net/mark.everett1/

Published in the April #53 issue of Snakeskin Poetry Webzine
@ http://homepages.nildram.co.uk/~simmers/