It happened early one morning.
It happened like it always does,
times 3.
Strapped, armed, holding hands
what every loving mother
shouldn't do.
Word of it traveled
like the winter flu,
by noon everybody had heard
of maniacal faithers
who took home her children
lighting up fireworks.
The sun blazed dazedly
evaporating 3 crosses,
not quite melting the ice.
Until it reached my porch step,
it were but distant voices.
now it's here
and real. like it always is of course
but now it's closer than ever
bursting at my door.
Sliced up like a juicy tomato
his screams are muffled by
a screen screening bright information
into the heads of mouths
who offer surreal commentary
disguised as jokes.
We're terrified.
We're hypochondriacs fearing
contamination of a rampant
plague.
A plague we've never seen before.
Our ****** eyes.
So many have already
been ***** by fate.
Faith in fatherly beards
granting wishes to
obedient children
who go tarnishing other fathers' gardens.
What an absurd world
where IS is ice that
cannot melt.
What an absurd world
where children weep
at mothers' debt.
What an absurd world
where faithful supremity
reigns unchecked.