Thursday, May 6, 2010

Bl. Edward Jones

I lugged the chair to the top of the stairs

even though it was full of rain. I dropped it

from our attic window. I was stunned

by the sound it made when it hit the ground.

It was full of tiny rabbit bones.

I destroyed a nest, a home, a bundle

of new life. Those little eyes saw nothing

but the underside of paisley. My heart is

tangled thread with a hidden silver pistol.

I do not deserve to pray.

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