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    Diurnal 

     

    by Robert Nazarene

     

     

    Why bolt your door?  On which side

    lies the danger?  People scream when they panic.

     

    All you can manage is a whimper.  A blood

    axe has two sides.  One for each of your faces.

     

    A woman the size of your mirror refuses

    to eat anything that was once alive.

     

    You mumble for your mother and father, chopped

    to bits in the cannery.  Your cat turns its nose

     

    up at the smell of tuna.  Cloven hooves suit

    your frock.  You dance to the beat of walnuts

     

    crashing on your roof.   Down the lane,

    a priest disguised as a priest saves you a seat

     

    on his sofa.  The Holy One, The Despised

    One, Jesus: knocks softly on your door.   

     

                                                                Shhhhhh--

     

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