Milk and God
Very True, Very abrupt As you petal on your last morning Mircale divine, you said you met God, On their way to lunch Past sterling court, onward to castle Heights They sat in a field, whispering...then laughing, Unheard as a needle dropping upon stringy cotton, But they wore Knives through his chest And bows decorating her hair Something rather suspisious Rather unresting As you fell to your knees, looking over They heard you crack, as your feeble body struggles to firm I can remember that well Almost like that time in May When you spit up Mother's milk Tasteless like balloons And she sent you wailing to your room As if her breasts were offended Only a babe then...now a man You say you met God Only not so pleasant For they watched as you fell Whispered more, and laughed even louder I can feel your humiliation Just like a pierced little child Yet I'm not quite so sure you met God Rather...you met their humor (Mother's sour milk)Quite I'm sure...He has a wonderful sense of humor Written January 9th, 2002 © on Jan 09 2002 11:38 AM PST 18 • 0 • 13
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"Very True, Very abrupt..."