those above the law…

you’re vinegar drops
on the crucifix of time
our blood warmed your feet
but shed blood turns to lava
and so our fate will be yours

 

on the eve of christmas…

holidays
hard days
cold winds
frost the windows
and
chill
even
the youngest bones
there’ll be no
manger
wise men
or
gifts
but
the lights
wink
at
the children
through
the iced portals
of
this home
of
theirs
parked
on
broad street