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--