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/ |