Corpse dangles from tree by snapped-twig neck,
innards spilled out from stomach like rotten raspberries,
nothing but stick-figure hang man.
Simon Iscariot's tears fall beside blood and water
that pours from your abdomen,
similar to the emulsion
from the spear-wound in Jesus. Christ
gave you the highest honor:
that of making all
ancient parchment
statements true.
They were then hidden away for centuries in dry clay pots
in musty caves of sheep-herders.
Father lowers you down
the greatest of care
to the arms of
Pieta' Mother.
May 22, 2011
May 22, 2011 at 8:06 AM UTC
Corpse dangles from tree by snapped-twig neck,
innards spilled out from stomach like rotten raspberries,
nothing but stick-figure hang man.
Simon Iscariot's tears fall beside blood and water
that pours from your abdomen,
similar to the emulsion
from the spear-wound in Jesus. Christ
gave you the highest honor:
that of making all
ancient parchment
statements true.
They were then hidden away for centuries in dry clay pots
in musty caves of sheep-herders.
Father lowers you down
the greatest of care
to the arms of
Pieta' Mother.
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