mud

coolness

green cricket

calls to the soul

primordial waste

spirit shredded woven

in the skin of the leper

i’ve become night hangs loosely poor

lacking luster my lady shoes not

good enough to walk the sidewalks of the

chosen fools who speed holiness away

my gown humble with the dirt of work

hands clasped in riot darkly hid

elbows turned upright gaping

for fluids of defeat

social sunshine glares

upon my lips

without a

tragic

face

try

mighty

sinner smile

at least look to

the west of Hope street

and the pillars under

the court house of the fake lights

at the steps of public health signs

and with divine encrusted begging

bowl nee five dollar coffee paper cup

we ask again tonight and through the day

for gentle rain across my face gone

away with sorrow full with blown

out stars gazing through the soul

of infant time and sin

seeped through secret holes

in skies hazy

with sanguine

guilty

stain