POEM: "Hosanna"

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