Monday 12/31/2007 02:08:00 AM

Sad now because sleep was gone. The iron rabbit foiled by the paper tortoise. She woke up the ant and told it to begin foraging again. As if food were scarce. Because it was. Always hard to come by lasting meals. Genuine salvation.

God wasn't looking as she tore off a piece of paper from the tablet. God wasn't interested that the ink her pen had run dry. Calculations came in failing concrete. In dead birds of prey. Everything was small except for the numbers. The heels she wore to make herself tall.

Little girls in grandma's closet draped in lies she must've worn. Wondering how long until they'll fit.

All gods lie.. Once we learn this what is there left to worship?

2 comments:
writerwoman said...

Happy New Years!

From Poets Who Blog.

ap said...

thanx writerwoman for all your nice comments. and a happy new year to you as well.



| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2016. All Rights Reserved.