Monday, May 11, 2015

POEM: "Hosanna"


The truth he tosses out
he is despisèd like shit
clothing stiff, a bad history
rejected by the annual bath
he speaks to us from shame
we spit, we hear a little bit

in the air we’re breathing
children naked by the well

dust falling on every mirror
the sorry verge of our ears

feet tangled up in the mind
Lord we walk home in sorrow.

© 2013 Rob Schackne

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