a crow
croaks harshly,
sitting on
the wooden cross
atop the peeling
church roof
something here
is dead and rotten
the stench seeps
from inside
where a priest
lectures a group of children
sitting cross legged
on a wooden floor
about hell
honour thy father and mother
(even if they hurt me?)
or you will be
pitched into the flames
for all eternity,
he says,
looking down at
the pallid faces
and fawn- like eyes