Sep 142011
 
How God hates a freeman.
How suffering is his every rainbow
--Even when we poor ants
Find some infinitesimal way of being free
He sends a scourge, an insanity amongst us
            --Sudsy heads in turbans
            hard hands anxious to cruxify
            ready hammers and shiny nails
            suicide bombers in clean veils
            no dirt under their fingernails
            ready to make love to God

The God who, ironically enough,
Is killing us in black batches,
By blood-mouthfuls, killing
And shaming us with his sharp scourge
--so clean, so new--


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