Burden Of Proof

In the masses lives escape /told in stories where swallows nest/you see the blue halos/ saints are cautious in the Archway. They freeze their random death /cry as they abandon/what’s odd about the god./They peer at mottoes in a cornice, /they wear their red silk threads. /Come sinner, come saint;/exit the crimson mold,/argue with serpents in song./Settle on what you pray for. / Pledged to the comic war/their cruel lips seem startled /they are wrapped up as spies.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s