Summer streamed rude ribbons
they splayed across the Augustine
reflected in the blades of grass
a warning: I'm Anathema.

I shook the dew off of the sleeve
of my daily newspaper
housed by that Monsanto bleed:

Kenny has killed Kenny!

sigh

I saw it coming. I still wept
with knowledge of the domino's

repercussive-cough-effect...

So I went inside.

I read the news like it was new
knowing my eyes cannot lie
I took upon myself a hood
like the cobra's question mark

erect

and curvature, assured

I'll strike

(as any mother would)

* * *

I watched aware,
sidelined again;
with my right hand across my chest
as I watched another fall.
This one, we lost on July 4th--
In-depend-incense-less-ness.

The faith of parents near and far--
we're-so-lucky-whisperings

bent in solace grief amends

with grateful backs turned to the grave

we clasped our children unto us.

As if the shadow would respect this much:

"Tears are Oshun's children"

*touch*

they take a piece of us away

returning with the tide the bits

as sand of former castlings

and still we dare to greet the day.

* * *

I told no one I cut myself
so I'd produce a sacrifice.
For my children I cut twice
and marked an "x" upon my door...

The frogs, the boils, the flies
we trust
"surely this must be enough"
tossing sage to fire inside

as truffles to a Lord of Lust
of "daily ye must die."

* * *

Another
prompted one more mother
to display her sacrifice.

Spare me Lord, what I have wrought.

Oh grant me Thou, Mercy, Largesse


For one more day?
I'll bend my knee ten thousand times.

I'll cut myself in two's, again,
no better than much better men--
I'm begging for my own children:

I'll die that they might live.

* * * * *